A Winner Is You! Entry: Wolfwood
by jjp55
Summary: Nicholas D. Wolfwood enters a strange tournament inside a massive shopping mall.
1. Introducing: Nicholas D Wolfwood!

Nicholas D

Nicholas D. Wolfwood gazed down at the city, and exhaled a breath of smoke. So this is earth. The homeland of humanity. The place where it all began. Kind of a disappointment really. He had heard rumours of Earth being an entire planet of metal – the whole globe covered completely in skyscraper after skyscraper, each taller than the last. Instead, there was just this. It wasn't so different from the planet he had just left really. Wide open spaces, dotted with occasional blips of evidence humanity existed. Granted, these open spaces were far more interesting than the harsh, burning deserts he had grown used to.

The other thing that caught his eye was the technology. Sure, where he came from they used to use livestock as the main form of transport, but these machines that they used here seemed so primitive compared to just the space junk they lived off on the other planet.

"Well, might as well take a look at this place"

He wandered aimlessly about through the vast, endless city streets. Sure, it had seemed small from atop that cliff, but the city was far bigger closer up. Now Wolfwood was slightly impressed. Although it still seemed a little bit old fashioned.

Most of the buildings seemed very drab and old. It didn't take Wolfwood long to get sick of block after block of grey concrete, or faded orange brick. He began to think back to his original purpose for entering the city. A way out. He needed to find a way back to his old planet. Earth appealed to him, somewhat. With a few improvements it could be paradise. But he had to get back to the children. The orphans he had left up there… he couldn't just abandon them like this. He had to get back to them… or get them back to him.

One building stood out to him in particular. Now this was the kind of new technology he had expected. The massive seven story monster of a building may not have been the tallest building around, but was certainly the largest. It was like a massive ring of steel, reminiscent of the Plants Wolfwood had depended on throughout his life, but bigger. And closer to the ground.

He walked up to the huge doorways. They were two stories high, and stretched 20 metres either side of Wolfwood. There were lights on inside, but the frosted glass prevented him from making anything out. It also gave the doors an incredible glow-like effect, like the many neon signs around the city, but brighter. Just the entrance alone seemed to be making a statement to anyone who looked at them: THIS is the place to be.

One other thing caught his eye; a man-sized poster detailing the building. It was a mall. A giant shop. Wolfwood almost fell flat on his face then. To think that anybody would need a shop of this size… it was absurd. The only shops he had ever been to were small corner stores and pubs. And more than half the time he left them riddled with bullet holes. He read on;

NEXT WEEK: the grand opening for the El Centro Del Mundo, hosted by Death By Chocolate. Will feature greatest publicity stunt ever attempted.

THIS WEEK: A tournament will be hosted within the mall. Come one, come all, come those who think they can fight. Fighters will be paired of in a swiss-style tournament until only one clear winner remains – This Could Be You

Prize: 100 000, and 'fulfillment of your desire', courtesy of Death By Chocolate.

Warning – not responsible for death and/or any other injury sustained during tournament. Not recommended if you use a pacemaker, have a heart disorder, are pregnant, are under 18 years of age or have a family that loves you.

ALL ARE WELCOME!

Wolfwood stepped through the doors.


	2. Round 1: Vincent Valentine

Wolfwood smiled pleasantly, eying his opponent from afar

**A/N – I do not own Wolfwood, Vincent Valentine, Death By Chocolate or anything relating to those characters. This is my entry to the A Winner Is you contest, hosted by Avatarjk137.**

**Sorry if Valentine is OOC, I've never played FFVII (Although FFXII is very good)**

Wolfwood smiled pleasantly, eying his opponent from afar. After signing up for the tournament, things had moved quickly along to the first round. Everything went dark as Death By Chocolate – a strange looking man, who was said to be a demon, but appeared to be completely made of chocolate – announced each persons first opponents. The lights went down and a single spotlight – from somewhere several floors up shined down onto the host. His shiny brown skin gleamed all the more in the bright light.

Two by two, he called out the names of each contestant, along with their partners. It took several minutes; there were a lot of people crowded around the central stage. And a lot of non-people as well. Earth seems to have more aliens than an alien planet, Wolfwood thought.

With each name, a picture of the contestant would flash onto the screen. It was this that had alerted Wolfwood, rather than the sound of his name being called out. His face appeared, covering half the screen. The other half was taken up by another fighter. Wolfwood frowned. He didn't remember taking that picture. He was standing in a doorway, with a look of wonder on his face. It looked like it was shot… just there, near the entryway. Sure enough, there on the roof of the first floor entrance was a small camera case. Wolfwood was tempted to shoot that thing then and there. But he restrained, in favour of checking the picture of his opponent. Besides, there were still people coming through the doorway. Late entrants. Despicable. They deserved having their picture taken in secret.

Vincent Valentine, it seemed, was a gunman. Wolfwood could see it in the way he walked, the way he squinted at distant objects, the way his hand went subconsciously to his hip every now and then.

"A good match up to me I suppose." He said, with the air of confidence, to no one in particular. But he wasn't quite as confident as he sounded. He had met too many fearsome gunman in his time – sure, they were mostly on his side, and more often than not he ended up killing them anyway, but Wolfwood had a hunch that Valentine was not all he seemed. Much like a Gung-Ho Gunman.

At least he had the advantage of surprise. Valentine was clueless as to Wolfwoods location. He seemed to be asking around for him. It was five minutes until the official start of the round, the contestants had that much time to find eachother, and find a private place for the fight. Wolfwood was sorely tempted to shoot Valentine now. He was a few floors below him, wandering around the outside of the gun store. All he had to do was loose a few shots from one of his pistols, straight into his head, and the round was his. Or, to be on the safe side, demolish the entire area with a quick rocket. Not quite so efficient, but just as effective.

But, once again, Vash's words came to his head.

"Thou shalt not kill, remember!" Wolfwood had always looked up to Vash. Not that he would ever admit it, of course, but now, stuck on a strange planet surrounded by weird technology and even weirder people, he longed for a weirdo like Vash to keep him company. Also, his fighting skills would be pretty convenient in this fighting tournament.

Forgetting his memories for a while, Wolfwood focussed once more on the task at hand. Reflection could wait until the action is over.

There were less people around now, almost everyone had gone off to other sections of the mall for their fights. It was easier to spot Valentine now… no, wait, no it wasn't. He was gone. Wolfwood threw his massive cross-shaped package to the floor in frustration. Then he quickly picked it up again, and checked it for any damage. That settled, he decided it would be best to follow Vincent into the gun shop, where he had obviously gone. He had been hoping to keep the fight outside the tiny shops, in the open space of the mall. His bigger guns were more effective out here.

"Oh well," He reasoned, "I suppose I'll have to lure him out once I've found him again." He set off down the escalator, not noticing the cape-like piece of tattered red material, billowing in the wind above his head.

The gun shop was massive. Far bigger than any kind of armoury Wolfwood had ever seen. Not that he had seen many. All his guns were custom made, and maintained by small town blacksmiths, along with himself.

Here he saw, with his own barely-believing eyes, aisle after aisle of row after row, containing shelf after shelf. Of brand new, shiny metallic instruments of death and destruction. It wasn't long before Wolfwood completely forgot what he was meant to be doing, busying his mind with more important issues, like comparing these mass-produced guns to his own custom made miracle worker.

As he expected, though, the technology of this planet disappointed. Sure they were good guns, some with some handy extras that could actually provide some use, like laser sights. But overall, nothing out-weighed his gun in terms of firepower, useability, durability, variability, or sentimentality. Although… He grabbed a few lightweight, but powerful handguns and stuffed them into a pocket in his jacket. He could store them in the cross gun, for later use. He also grabbed a fairly large, semi-automatic machine gun, with a laser pointer rather than a scope. Perhaps if he set his mind to it, he could find a way to install this instead of…

"I hope you intend to pay for that." A deep, menacing voice said. Followed shortly by the cocking of a gun. "Because stealing is a sin, is it not?" Wolfwood turned towards the speaker.

Vincent Valentine was a tall, dark sort of man. From the long black hair to the long, flowing red and black cape, Vincent looked, to Wolfwood, like the devils messenger. His smile from hell completed the effect, and his metallic arm did its part too.

"You look more demonic than the host." Wolfwood joked, trying to stall while he found some cover to duck behind. There was none. Vincent was standing between him and the exit. There was nothing but a long stretch of shelves behind him, and the shop seemed to be empty apart from the two of them. This was the perfect place for an ambush. Wolfwood had thought earlier about using this spot, though he had intended to be in the opposite position.

Actually, he hadn't intended to be in the shop at all. He was only here because he saw Valentine enter… Or, at least, he thought he had.

"Tell me; how did you get behind me?" Wolfwood asked, seriously this time. Vincent smiled.

"For a believer in the supernatural, you sure seem narrow-minded. This battle is too easy, I think I should teach you a lesson in things, not of this earth." As Wolfwood struggled to figure out what he meant, Valentine vanished. Not completely though. His body seemed to vanish, but his cloak remained, seeming to float on a gentle breeze. But there was no wind.

At first he was, yet again, blown away. As disappointing as earth was, it had some cool stuff, Wolfwood thought. In a second though, he regained his senses. Knowing absolutely nothing about the phenomena that had occurred before him, and being completely oblivious to any way he could harm it, he did the most natural thing he could. He fired, using the machine gun in his hand.

A volley of tiny metal missiles flew through the air, piercing the air all around the floating cape that was Vincent Valentine. But none of them hit their target, instead, Vincent swerved through the air at absurd speed. He wrapped and twisted himself as the bullets flew all around him. Wolfwood lost track of him quickly, as he watched the dazzling blur of red, and white-hot sparks, as the bullets collided with tiles, shelving, the roof, guns, and various other wares the shop carried. One stray projectile pelted into a container of smoke grenades, several metres away, causing it to explode, and spew smoke out into the aisle. Through the thickening smoke, Wolfwood could see the floating cape, reforming into Vincent Valentine, his smile broader than ever. Wolfwood tried the trigger again, and felt his heart skip a beat as he heard the ominous click of an empty magazine.

"You lose, Priesty-man." Vincent raised his own pistol. Wolfwood looked around. There was nothing. He couldn't run, wasn't fast enough to dodge a bullet, had nothing to shoot back with, and certainly couldn't rely on Vincent being a bad shot. Maybe if there was more smoke… or if Wolfwood were in the smoke… Yes, that might work. A plan formed in Wolfwoods mind, and in the seconds it took for Vincent to cock his gun again, he grabbed his own gun, held it out in front of him (it wasn't a lot of protection, but it was enough.) and charged at Valentine.

The gun went off, and Wolfwood felt a tinge of pain in his right shoulder. He had jumped at the right moment though; any sooner and Vincent would have readjusted his aim, any later and his brains would have decorated the shelves.

Vincent turned as Wolfwood rocketed by him, and disappeared into the smokescreen.

Wolfwood sprinted towards the door, and as he did, he pulled at the buckle on his cross gun covering. The fabric collapsed to the floor, revealing the shiny metallic exterior of his iconic weapon. He grabbed the skull-shaped centre, whilst behind him he heard a piercing howl, like a wolf at full moon, but louder. More frightening. He continued his sprint to the door,

He didn't make it. Not that he expected to, with the floating red being easily able to fly over his head, he had merely expected to make it to a point where he wasn't so vulnerable. Instead he was suddenly thrust into his most awkward situation yet. Or rather, pulled… by his ankles… by a huge purple paw, with long, sharp claws to boot. That was unexpected.

The thing pulled him along the floor, lifting him by his ankle, and dangling him in the air. Wolfwood was brought face-to-face, upside-down, with the hideous beast-form of Vincent Valentine.

"Once again, Wolfwood, you're underestimating what your up against." The thing spoke. "This is my Galian beast form. A weak form, relatively speaking, capable of little more than a brute force to be reckoned with. But I think you'll find it more than too much to handle." as Wolfwood struggled to get his gun into position, an even more difficult task, considering the bullet wound in his shoulder, Valentine picked him up higher, and slammed him to the ground, pinning him under the heavy claws. Wolfwood's gun collapsed from his hands, and clattered to the floor, several metres away. Wolfwood gasped as the wind left his stomach, leaving him breathless and in pain.

"ow" he tried to scream, but with his empty lungs, it was more of a half-hearted sigh.

"Any last words, Priesty-man?" The beast said, cruelly, drawing his face closer, until he was inches away from Wolfwoods. "Would you like to surrender?" He squeezed a little harder, leaving Wolfwood with less air than before. Wolfwood could feel the claws cutting through his clothes, pushing against his skin…

"Demon…ah!" Wolfwood put his hands into his jacket pockets. "Go to hell!" He pulled them back out, this time gripping to two brand-new handguns – guns he had intended to place in his cross gun later. Oh well, he thought, this is as good a use as any. He opened fire, at point blank. For a split second, he could see the sudden realization and panic crossing through the Galian beast's eyes, before he pelted them with bullets.

The grip on Wolfwoods body loosened quickly, and he wasted no time in rolling out of the way, as Valentine clutched at his face. It hadn't killed him, but ten bullets in the face from a high-powered weapon at point blank range… well, it was more than just an itch.

Wolfwood dropped the handguns, and picked up his cross gun. He mounted it on his left shoulder, which hadn't been wounded. He aimed the short end at Vincent.

"Now…" Wolfwood panted, still recovering his breath. "Have a little taste… of The Lords mercy." He pulled the trigger. Although he was aiming with his off-hand, the rocket flew straight and true at the Galian beast's heart. Temporarily blinded, Valentine had no time to respond before the missile collided with him, creating a massive explosion. Shelves were ripped apart, guns, bullets and other weapons of war flew everywhere. Valentine was knocked to the ground, reverting to his human form. Wolfwood, exhausted, dug his cross into the ground and held on to it, as the shockwave rushed by him. When the blast was gone, and the smoke had cleared, Wolfwood wandered over to examine his opponent.

He had survived, but was just clinging to consciousness.

"You're a good fighter, and a brilliant gunman." Wolfwood said. "Under any other circumstances, I would kill you." To emphasize his point, Wolfwood aimed the rocket at Valentine again. It would be suicide to fire it at this range, but he wasn't taking any chances with this guy. "But I'm not allowed, so will you agree to surrender?"

To Wolfwoods relief, though, he nodded. A clap rang out from behind him. Death by Chocolate was watching them, from quite a distance.

"Congratulations Wolfwood. You've made it to round 2!" The chocolate demon took a look around the remnants of the store. "But next time, could you go a little easier on the background. We need to pay for this to be fixed up for opening week you know." He wandered away, towards the food court, where a pair of ninjas were still carrying on their battle.

Wolfwood looked at the mess around him, not paying any attention to the destruction.

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I borrowed a few things…"

**The End!**

**Hope you enjoy, please review, critically but without flaming. Um… yea, looking forward to round two. :) **


	3. Round 1 Aftermath: Deadpool

Wolfwood sorted through the trolley-load of stuff he had collected from the ruined gun store

**A/N I know, it's terribly unoriginal, but since everyone else is doing it, and I had a bit of spare time, I wrote my own connecting chapter.**

**In the aftermath of Round 1, Wolfwood is sorting through his stuff, thinking of home, and suddenly meeting an unexpected stranger. **

**None of the characters are mine, the mall, DbC, and the tournament are all made up by Avatarjk137.**

**Enjoy this… rather strange encounter.**

Wolfwood sorted through the trolley-load of stuff he had collected from the ruined gun store. After checking out the devastation throughout the mall, he realised he would need more of it than he first thought, just to survive. If he was planning on winning a few more rounds, he may need even more. The food court, where he was sitting, looked as if an inferno had swept through it. Apparently it had been a fight between a pair of ninjas. A hell spawn, and a mutant. Wolfwood shivered. All these ungodly beasts; perhaps this tournament would be improved by doing away with the no killing rule. Some of these people deserved to die. Probably a lot of these people.

He picked out a few sleek-looking grenades. On his planet, grenades never looked that fancy. Not that they were often used; they were far too unreliable for most people. The only grenades you could trust not to blow up in your face were ones scavenged from a SEEDS wreckage. And after a hundred years of raiders going through them, they were pretty rare.

That said, with earths brilliant technology, perhaps they had something up to the standard of SEEDS reliability and firepower. Wolfwood turned the grenade over in his palm. It looked pretty advanced, and it hadn't exploded yet. Experimentally, he pushed the big red button, and tossed the grenade over the counter of an empty sushi restaurant across the court.

After three seconds, a resounding boom echoed throughout the area. The white hot fire burned at Wolfwoods eyes. He had only ever seen the report from a SEEDS weapon once, but he was pretty sure this came close. Although, the modern one was less efficient. SEEDS weapons were designed to obliterate, whereas these modern counterparts left… a lot of carnage.

The difference in technology still had Wolfwood stumped. The world he was currently on, earth, seemed to be right in the middle of the two extremes of technology on his old planet. Sure, they were far more advanced than the tiny, primitive settlements they lived off back home, but they were a far cry from the complexity and functionality of leftover SEEDS technology. It seemed to him, that this couldn't possibly be the planet his ancestors came from…

His thoughts were interrupted, by a red-clad ninja, suddenly dropping down from the roof. Wolfwood was startled at first, then began to raise his pistol…

" Wow, I've never seen such blatant disregard for Japanese food since… since I met myself." Wolfwood raised an eyebrow. The stranger was dressed in a red and black outfit, with patches of burn marks all over.

"And who are you, to be interfering in other peoples taste in food?" The ninja sat down casually, like they were conversing over a nice meal, although the mess of metallic instruments of death scattered around the table, and in the trolley, spoiled the effect completely. Wolfwood kept his gun pointed at the stranger.

"Most people call me NOT THE FACE! NOT THE FACE!" He said, relaxing in his seat. "But you can call me Deadpool." The more comfortable Deadpool seemed, the more nervous Wolfwood felt.

"What, er, exactly, is wrong with your face?" He still had the gun facing his general direction, but his focus was now drawn to the balaclava hiding the ninjas face. One side of it was frayed, but none his skin showed through.

"I don't like the girl's to see my good looks, so I hide them… behind this mask." Deadpool indicated his face.

"You're avoiding the question. Why don't you take that thing off, before I blow it off, along with your face." Wolfwood aimed the gun properly again. This guy was creeping him out. Deadpool showed little reaction. In fact, he seemed to mock Wolfwoods threat.

"That's so scary, but I got…" He began rummaging through his pockets. Wolfwood help his gun tighter, with two hands. "A RUBBER DUCKY! HA!" Deadpool held up a small rubber duck, with a small burn mark on one of its wings. The sight of this seemingly professional ninja trying to square off with him looked almost comical to Wolfwood. In fact, it was comical. He burst into laughter.

"What is wrong with you!" He half yelled, between giggles. His gun was pointed at the table now. Wolfwood didn't consider him much of a threat anymore.

"Lets just say I was a lab rat once, except lab rats are treated better, oh, and they treated rubber duckies poorly too!" Deadpool gave it a squeeze, and it emitted a tiny squeak.

"So… you must be the mutant that was fighting here before?" Wolfwood holstered his gun. Deadpool put away his rubber ducky.

"Yep, against Scorpion. Go check under that piano under there. I added garlic, so he ain't getting up anytime soon." Deadpool pointed to a spot behind Wolfwood. He checked, and noticed a broken piano, looking like it had fallen from the roof, lying in pieces on the ground. Sticking out from under it, he could barely see a yellow gloved hand.

"Yikes! Hold up - I thought the rule was no killing?" Wolfwood wondered how much the mutating thing had affected his head. A PIANO! Come on.

"Oh come on, don't you watch cartoons? No one ever dies from a piano." Deadpool replied. Wolfwood frowned. What kind of logic was that?

"Well… we're not in a cartoon! Are we? I don't think we are…" This guy is messing with my head, he thought.

"Hey I'm the one that's supposed to break the fourth wall here!" Deadpool seemed angered by this, for what reason, Wolfwood couldn't make out. He tried a different subject.

"Um… so, do you have any kind of… powers or something?" Wolfwood stuttered. Half of him wanted to whip out his gun and silence this madman. Half of him wanted to get to know him.

"My way with women, my common sense." Deadpool boasted. He's as changeable and senseless as Vash, thought Wolfwood, I like him.

"Apparently not humility, then?" Wolfwood smiled, a first for this conversation.

"Who said? I have great humility, I'm so humble I make those Buddhist monks look like billionaire tycoons!" Once again, this man's twisted mind had utterly befuddled anything sensible Wolfwood could think of. This time, though, he didn't care. He had decided to go along for the ride.

"Yes, and I'm the mayor of July…" He suddenly realised that nobody on this planet would understand what that statement meant.

"You're the mayor of a whole MONTH! Wow. No need to boast, or anything." Deadpool cried, in mock amazement. Wolfwood was reminded of times with Vash when they had stupid talks like this. Of course, they were always drunk at the time. Wasn't drinking a sin? Ah well, seemed irrelevant now.

"That's right – a whole month! Fear my power!" Wolfwood stretched out his arms, as if addressing a massive crowd. Deadpool made a few faint claps.

"I suppose that explains why in July, there are the most deaths…"

"ATTENTION COMPETITORS, PLEASE REPORT TO THE CENTRAL STAGE AREA, FOR AN ANNOUNCEMENT FROM YOUR HOST!" The PA system blared loudly over the scattered conversations and clean-up operations going on throughout the mall.

"What a coincidence, I have an argument I was about to bring up about the poor quality of their movies…" Deadpool leapt into the air, and vanished. A minute later, Wolfwood caught a glimpse of him, heading the opposite way to the main stage, swinging on a rope halfway across the food court, singing to himself.

"Deadpool-man, Deadpool-man, does whatever a psycho can…" Wolfwood shook his head. Now that was a very disturbed guy. He packed up his trolley, wandering past the piano on his way to the lift. He glanced at Scorpions hand, sticking out from underneath.

"Perhaps someone should help him." He muttered to himself. The lift dinged, and he stepped in, turning his back on the injured ninja.

**A/N This is a collaborated effort with Aelsthla-Mental – who helped me with Deadpools bits. I used his and my fight stories as canon. Hope you enjoyed it, looking forward to round 2. Good luck in the judging everyone.**

**:D**


	4. Round 2 Prelude: Deal with a devil

Having picked out some choice weapons for the next round, Wolfwood wandered the mall for a little while, thinking

**A/N: what, you want this ordinary gunman, with old-fashioned weapons, to go up against this magical being from another dimension? Gonna have to work on his arsenal then. What he needs is some kind of magic artefact. Also, a plot twist. Or a plot thickening. I don't know.**

Having picked out some choice weapons for the next round, and hidden the ones he couldn't carry, Wolfwood wandered the mall for a little while, thinking. He had 1 hour until the second round started, and he was at a complete loss for what to do. He had been pitched against Lancer. At first that sounded like an easy task; a guy with a lance. Shoot him around the body a few times, and he would be effectively out for the count. Out for the whole tournament even, but Wolfwood wouldn't have cared either way.

The problem lay in one small detail Wolfwood missed, at first. Lancer was far more threatening, and less primitive than he sounded. After watching the first round on security tapes, stolen from a small booth on the top floor, Wolfwood had learnt a few things about his opponent:

Firstly, he was fast. Like lightning. He was a short-range fighter, but he made up for it with his skill in sneaking up close, and getting ahead of his opponent. Wolfwood was prepared to accept the fact that he may well dodge a bullet.

Secondly, he didn't use a lance. He used a spear. Wolfwood wasn't sure how that illogical difference would affect him, but it was worth knowing.

Thirdly, he had a detestable personality. Wolfwood had met many warriors in his life, and most of them were grumpy, or sadistic, or angry… Lancer was like a combination of all of these. Wolfwood hated dealing with these sorts of people.

One thing that was favourable to him was that Lancer wasn't very bright. He had lost the last round in a crazed bloodlust… forgetting his opponents ability to teleport. Or perhaps he hadn't known. In which case; bad preparation. Not very bright.

Wolfwood decided he should venture to the very bottom of the mall. He hadn't been there since his arrival, and that was only the ground floor. According to some maps, there were three basement levels under that. According to other maps, there were none. _Man, they really gotta work on consistency 'round here_… Wolfwood thought.

Stepping into an elevator, Wolfwood chose the lowest floor he could get to. 2nd Basement. Fair enough. Maybe there would be another elevator to the 3rd one. Or maybe it didn't exist. He watched through the glass walls as he whizzed past floor after floor. He couldn't see much of the floors though; the beautifully constructed, ornate staircase that spiralled around the lift was in the way. Eventually, he reached the first basement, where the staircase vanished, replaced by bland concrete walls on all sides. This trend continued right to the bottom; the second basement. The lift dinged.

As soon as he stepped out at the end of the line, Wolfwood could tell something was wrong. The room was large, the roof hovered at least twenty metres overhead, spreading out seemingly endlessly in front of him; Wolfwood guessed that this single room was as long and wide as the whole mall. It was lit by large halogen lights, hanging from the ceiling. A breeze of cool night air wafted through ventilation shafts, positioned at intervals along the wall. Overall, it was quite a nice place – the open space reminded of home.

But there was something about the atmosphere in the vast room… a tingling on Wolfwoods spine. He had only gone a few steps in when he stopped. His sixth sense told him to stop.

Not that he ever trusted his sixth sense. But then there was that feeling that he was being watched… or was that still his sixth sense? Either way, Wolfwood decided, he should head back. He turned toward the elevator. Just his luck, it was on its way up… to the 7th floor. Funny, that's where he had just come from.

No time to think of that now, Wolfwood turned towards the staircase. Down here, it seemed, much less effort had been put in to giving it a nice look. The stairs were plain, undecorated, boring concrete. But they were stairs, and that's all Wolfwood needed for the moment. He picked up his pace, in the direction of the stairs.

To his surprise, the room lit up. At first it was just a thin beam, casting a shadow in front of Wolfwood, but within seconds, it spread out until it bathed the whole floor space all around. Barely realizing what he was doing, Wolfwood stopped, and turned around…

…To one of the most amazing sights of his life. The source of the yellow-orange light was… well, it seemed to come from everywhere. A wall of light, like a huge gateway to another realm, had suddenly appeared, broken only by a small shadow, . It was blindingly bright; Wolfwood reached into a pocket and drew out his sunglasses. Sunglasses in a basement. Who'd have thought it.

After his eyes adjusted to glare, he could make out the figure of a man.

He wore shining golden armour, broken by streaks of blue, with a pair of massive golden shoulder pads, giving him the stature of a grid-iron player, but far more menacing.

He wore no helmet; his face forming one of the most prominent parts of his appearance. His ears were weighed down with an exotic pair of golden earrings, that matched his armour. His light blond hair was streaked back into spikes, complementing his deep red eyes, and giving him an overall frightening, but noble appearance.

Wolfwood had barely a second to take in the sight, before the man spoke.

"Nicholas D. Wolfwood." His voice was loud, deep and commanding. Wolfwood felt intimidated, but tried not to show it.

"Yea, yea, you know my name. But I don't know yours; who are you?"

Wolfwood set his newly modified cross gun onto the ground, and began reaching for the buckle to loosen its fabric covering… But something else caught his eye.

The huge wall of light behind the stranger lit up – if that were possible. Perhaps it suddenly became alight with activity. Ripples appeared across the orangey-yellow surface, hundreds of ripples. And from the centre of each of those ripples floated a sword. Or a spear. Or an axe, or a hammer, or one of many more multitudes of instruments of torture and death. It WAS the most amazing sight Wolfwood had ever seen. The stranger just laughed.

"WHO AM I?! YOU ASK WHO AM I!" Suddenly, the mad laughter ceased, and he looked serious again. "Put away your weapon puny priest. This battle is light-years beyond your ability." Angrily Wolfwood dropped his cross gun on to the floor, still wrapped in its padding. "I am Gilgamesh – the most powerful servant! I am but a mere memory of the mighty warrior of legend, and yet…" He gestured triumphantly at his floating arsenal, stretching across the entire space of the room. "The power I wield is so much more."

"You are competing in this tournament?" Wolfwood asked, confused, but not completely out of his mind. If he could whip the gun out of his jacket holster, then get a clear shot at his head… problem was, his jacket was buttoned up. By the time he had his hand on the gun he would be pierced in six different places.

"Competing? HA! No, why should any king have to compete for his prize?" Gilgamesh paused. "But one of my friends is. Which is why I want you."

"Me?" Suddenly Wolfwood saw a way out, alive. Potentially.

"You are to be fighting Lancer in this round, are you not?" Gilgamesh demanded.

"Yes…"

"You will lose."

"What?"

"You cannot defeat Lancer. He is far beyond your ability, far beyond your accepted wisdom. His power is beyond anything you think you could possibly imagine." Gilgamesh sneered. Wolfwood struggled to keep himself composed through this onslaught of insults.

"He's fast, but he cannot possibly outrun a bullet." He reasoned.

"FOOL! Lancer class is the most accomplished in the field of agility out of all the servants! He can judge the trajectory of any moving object, and be out of the way long before your pathetic bullets would have left the barrel. You cannot defeat him." Gilgamesh paused, as his smile slowly faded to an evil grin. "Not without my help."

Wolfwood glared at him suspiciously.

"I don't trust you." Behind him, he heard the lift winch start to move.

"You don't have very much choice. Your opponent is on his way right now. Either you accept my offer, and I give you something that will help you defeat Lancer, or…" The indicator above the lift door flicked down, to number 6. "You refuse, and I leave you for dead." Wolfwood frowned.

"Wait a minute, if you're so powerful, and you want Lancer defeated, couldn't you just do it yourself?"

"HAHAHAHAHA!" Gilgamesh's laugh boomed across the vast space. Suddenly, he stopped. The orange light vanished, and all the weapons in it. Gilgamesh walked up, until he was just a few metres away from Wolfwood. "Do you want to know why I cannot do that?" Wolfwood nodded. "Because… of the demon!" he whispered.

"Demon? What demon?"

"The demon who runs this tournament." Gilgamesh replied. He said it in all seriousness, but Wolfwood couldn't help but smile.

"The host… Death By Chocolate… the man made of chocolate… You're afraid of a man made of chocolate?" Wolfwood almost giggled, but held it in, on seeing Gilgamesh's expression.

"It has nothing to do with his particular area, its all about his rank."

"Rank?"

"I am but a half spirit – a particularly good example at that – but being a fully-fledged demon means he has certain… authority over the likes of me. As such, it is in my best interests not to disrupt his tournament."

"What do you mean… authority?"

" NEVER YOU MIND MORTAL!" Gilgamesh snapped. Wolfwood stepped back. The lift indicator switched down to 5. "Just know that I want Lancer dead – and I need you to do it for me."

"I can't kill him! It's against the rules!" Wolfwood was taken aback. Not only was it against the rules, Wolfwood didn't like the thought of murdering a fellow competitor; especially as an errand for this demon. Or half demon, whatever he was. Gilgamesh just shrugged.

"Fine then – knock him out and bring him to me. He will be disqualified if he leaves the premises of the mall, will he not?"

"Well, yea, I guess but-"

"Excellent! Deliver him here when you're ready – and I can take care of him myself." Gilgamesh grinned, evilly. The lift clicked down to 4. Wolfwood gave in. Maybe he would find a way out of this after the fight.

"Fine then. But how do you know I will win? I thought you just said that I would lose." Gilgamesh's smile widened. He clapped his hands together, and the orange light reappeared.

As the weapons slowly resurfaced, floating outwards from the centre of their ripples, Wolfwood stepped back towards the lift, which now indicated that it was at level 3. Gilgamesh held out one hand, and three swords appeared. He selected one with his other hand, and the others vanished.

"THIS!" He proclaimed, "Is Durendal! 'The unparalleled famous sword'." He twirled the sparkling blade experimentally. "Not nearly my most powerful weapon, but certainly enough to take care of a Lancer class. Even if it is in the hands of the pitifully weak." Gilgamesh talked as if Wolfwood wasn't even there. Wolfwood was about to respond to this latest insult, when the orange light vanished again. Gilgamesh walked up to him, and held the sword out, handle first. Wolfwood took it, and examined it. Behind him, the lift had reached level 2.

"I can't use this! I've never even held a sword in my life!" He objected.

"It's your choice. This is your only hope of surviving against Lancer. I'm offering it to you for free; so long as you disable him and bring him back here once the round is over. Otherwise, I leave you here, and you will die alone. I will have someone else do my errand. Perhaps someone a little less squeamish about the whole business…"

"Wait – what makes you think I won't find any other way to win just because you've left me?" Gilgamesh smiled again, sending shivers down Wolfwood's spine.

"He's almost here." The lift reached level 1, and continued on. Leaving the sword in Wolfwoods hands, Gilgamesh vanished.

Wolfwood turned to face the lift. As the indicator reached the first basement level, he started preparing himself. He shoved Gilgamesh's sword into his cross gun casing, and heaved it onto his back. He would at least try this fight his way. He reached his hands into his jacket pockets, and brought out a pair of grenades. One explosive, and one smoke. He threw the smoker to the ground, where it began to splutter a thick veil, perfect for hiding in. He armed the explosive. Finally, he drew a pair of miniature machine guns from their holsters on his belt.

The lift reached the second basement, and dinged.

The doors opened, and Lancer stepped out.

**A/N Alrighty, now that's done, I can dig in to the actual fight of round 2. Maybe Wolfwood will stand a chance? Maybe he'll lose? Who am I kidding, of course he'll win. But will he concede to Gilgamesh's demands? Theres something to think about.**

5


	5. Round 2: Lancer

Wolfwood turned to face the lift

**A/N: Ok, I think I'm a tiny bit late – but you can forgive me, right?**

**This round continues directly from the prelude (the previous chapter), so I would advise reading that first. I've included the last paragraph of it anyway, just to set the scene for that moment.**

**None of the characters are mine. Death By Chocolate, the mall and the tournament are all Avatarjk137's ideas. Wolfwood is from the Trigun anime, and Lancer is from the Fate/Stay Night anime.**

**Read, review, enjoy :D**

Wolfwood turned to face the lift. As the indicator reached the first basement level, he started preparing himself. He shoved Gilgamesh's sword into his cross gun casing, and heaved it onto his back. He would at least try this fight _his_ way. He reached his hands into his jacket pockets, and brought out a pair of grenades. One explosive, and one smoke. He threw the smoker to the ground, where it began to splutter a thick veil, perfect for hiding in. He armed the explosive. Finally, he drew a pair of miniature machine guns from their holsters on his belt.

The lift reached the second basement, and dinged.

The doors opened, and Lancer stepped out.

Wolfwood leapt straight into action, bringing his guns up blazing. To his surprise, Lancer reacted just as fast, throwing himself off to the left. By the time Wolfwood noticed, and twisted his aim to the side, Lancer was already gone. Wolfwood eased his grip on the triggers, and looked around…

To see Lancer right behind him! Wolfwood leapt away in fright, and rolled to a screeching halt, sprawling across the ground, some 5 metres away. There was a small metallic tinkle.

"You're… Pretty fast…" Wolfwood panted. Through the smoke, he could see Lancer, grinning madly. It reminded him of someone he had just met.

"Pah! Your bullets are just too slow."

"Well, It is a shame though, that you're not more attentive." Lancer was about to reply, when the grenade at his feet went off, blasting him backwards into the smokescreen with a cry of pain.

Wolfwood leapt to his feet, and charged the opposite direction; back towards the lift. If Gilgamesh was right – Lancer was just a spirit – He should be able to survive that, Wolfwood reasoned. _Then again, what do I know about spirits? _Wolfwood decided it may be worth brushing up on his theology in future. Behind him he heard a groan, then a chuckle, and soon… footsteps. Lancer was giving chase.

Bursting through the fog, a wave of relief rushed over Wolfwood; the lift was still open. Hearing Lancer close behind, he leapt through the door, and proceeded to stab the console repetitively, praying for the doors to shut now!

As they, far too slowly, slid inwards to a shut, Lancer burst through the fog straight ahead. The last Wolfwood saw of him, was as he stopped and smiled. He seemed to say something, but Wolfwood didn't hear it, as the doors ground to a shut.

Wolfwood slumped onto the ground, leaning against the glass walls of the lift. He had no idea what to do. As he watched the concrete wall flying by as the lift rose through the basement, he thought about where he could go. Where would he have an advantage against this creep. Certainly not on open ground; he was too fast. But if he was in any place with cover, Lancer would hide, and only fight at close quarters. Again, to Wolfwoods disadvantage.

The elevator rose past the basements. Suddenly Wolfwood could see the whole mall. There were fights going on everywhere; the mall seemed to be halfway through the process of total annihilation. On the ground floor, Wolfwood caught a glance of Deadpool, in a deadlock with another ninja, surrounded by smouldering craters in the middle of a forest section.

Through the window of a furniture store on the second floor, Wolfwood glimpsed at an old man, he knew was called Solid Snake, engaged in some sort of sword fight with the stores wares, against some kind of short, red… thing.

In the centre of it all, an old, but nimble man was blasting massive fireballs at a circle of cloaked figures, floating above him. Every shop in the area was being consumed by the inferno, and the entire mall was alight with a red glow, and the electric feeling of a huge fight. Or, rather, several huge fights.

As the lift passed the third floor, something nearby caught his eye, just below his line of sight. It was a tuft of black hair. It curved around the lift, with the massive staircase, until it was hidden from Wolfwoods view. He stood up, tensing all over. The lift rose further, and the staircase spiralled back into view, and on it, bounding up the stairs, managing to keep up with the lift, was Lancer, a wicked grin covering his face.

"Oh Shi-"  
CRASH! The glass wall of the lift shattered, as a gleaming red spear shot through it, coming to a halt one inch through the solid metal door, right next to Wolfwoods face. Wolfwood didn't flinch; didn't even bother ducking as the glass pelted him all over; the thing he now needed the most was his gun. Heaving it off his back, he slammed it onto the ground, and pulled the buckle, releasing the fabric casing. As the material fell to the ground, Wolfwood heard a metallic clunk. Gilgamesh's sword! No time to think about that now, Wolfwood turned to his opponent, who was still running along the staircase.

Having just run another full lap around, Lancer finally jumped on to the lift, through the massive hole in the wall he had just created. Wolfwood was ready. Well, almost. He lashed out with his cross gun, like a giant, absurdly proportioned sword. Lancer was just grabbing his own weapon back, when it hit him, smack bam! In his face.

As Lancer collapsed to the floor, Wolfwood pressed a button on the cross, causing the longer arm to open slightly, and the machine gun barrel to pop out the end. Now with a laser sight.

Wolfwood pointed the gun at Lancer, a red dot appearing on his face.

"I heard you could dodge a bullet. I'd like to see you try." Wolfwood panted. He was tired, his body was covered in blood and scratches from the broken glass, and worst of all, his suit had lost a button. But despite all this, it seemed, this fight would be over quickly.

The lift dinged. They had arrived, at the top floor.

While Wolfwood was distracted by the sudden halt of movement, and opening of the lift doors, Lancer sprang into action. He rolled out of the laser sights, grabbed his spear and leapt up to his feet, kicking Wolfwood backwards as he went.

Wolfwood, though fast to react, could not match Lancer's agility. Suddenly, the tables had turned, and he found himself dangling over the edge of the lift, holding on with one hand, his cross gun in the other. Wolfwood began to slip.

Lancer wandered idly towards the edge of the elevator floor, absently spinning his spear around in his hands.

"I heard you might be a challenge." Said Lancer. He brought his spear to a halt, and aimed the butt end at Wolfwoods head. "But a little fall should cure that." Lancer thrust his spear into Wolfwoods head, knocking him almost completely out of consciousness. Wolfwood crumpled away from the edge, falling into the 9-storey abyss.

The world had become a maddening roller coaster ride; a random blur of multicolour weirdness, with an occasional in-focus shape thrown in. At one point, he could see a lift door. Another time, he could have sworn he saw Vash's face. A few floors down, Wolfwood straightened out, and came to his senses. He still had his cross gun in hand. _Excellent; that may be my only chance of survival._

A stairway flew by, twisting its way around, the further Wolfwood fell. He watched carefully as it curved back around…

And jammed the hilt of his gun right in the centre of two balustrades!

Wolfwood was winded by the sudden halt, and his whole body felt like it had been stretched out of shape like an elastic band. Was that his ribs he heard cracking?

He looked up, and realized that the intricate marble carved banister had cracked on impact.

A few floors above, Lancer laughed, and applauded.

"Wonderful performance. You remind me of another young man I met. I killed him twice in a single day, yet he still kept fighting."

With no idea what Lancer was on about, Wolfwood heaved himself up onto the staircase, and squeezed through the marble columns, pulling his weapon along after him.

"Shut up!" Wolfwood called. Raising his gun, short end forwards, he aimed straight towards Lancer's maniacal grin, clearly visible, even from down here. He pulled the trigger hard, and a resounding boom rumbled through the mall. A rocket flew from the barrel of Wolfwoods gun, accompanied by a massive cloud of smoke.

Lancer, wisely, withdrew his head, into the relative safety of the inside of the lift.

The rocket flew by, right where Lancers head had been, and zoomed on past. Lancer stuck his head back down.

"You missed sucker!" He called. For the first time in this fight, Wolfwood smiled. He didn't say anything in reply, just waited.

Above Lancer, another explosion rang out. The winch that was suspending the lift at level 7 had been utterly destroyed by Wolfwoods rocket. The ground Lancer was standing on shifted, and he glanced upwards, in time to see the winch cable, almost totally incinerated by the blast. There were only three tiny metal strands still holding it up.

Then two.

Then one.

The lift came thundering down the shaft, along with an avalanche of debris. Wolfwood took cover underneath his gun. The wreck rumbled by him. There was a light thud behind him.

Wolfwood turned, and once again found himself face-to-face with Lancer. His grin, if possible, was wider than ever. Lancer took a swipe at Wolfwood, knocking his gun away. It clattered down the steps, and slid to a halt on the second floor, where the steps levelled out.

Lancer twirled his spear around in an intimidating fashion, finally ending with the weapon pointed at Wolfwoods face.

Unperturbed, Wolfwood reached down towards his belt holster… to find it empty. He checked his pockets, his jacket, his armpits…nothing. He had used every single weapon in his arsenal. Well, apart from the sword, but that was… _Crap_! It was at the bottom of the lift shaft, buried under the lift wreckage.

"Heh." He said nervously. Lancer took a step forward.

Wolfwood stepped back, to find himself cornered against the banister. Behind him was just an empty lift shaft, with the tattered remains of the winch cable, dangling in the middle of it… Wolfwood had an idea.

He leapt up onto the railing, and jumped backwards, grabbing onto the winch cable, and coming to an unsteady halt in mid-air.

"What are you doing, you freak!" Called Lancer, angrily. "I thought you would have had enough cordless bungee jumping for a while."

Wolfwood suddenly came up with the prefect comeback to this.

"Yea? Well actually – Woah –" He was cut off, by the sudden loosening of the cable. Apparently his weight had been too much for it. Once again, he found himself falling into a dark abyss.

At the top of the shaft, the ruined winch spun out of control, dropping Wolfwood all the way to the bottom of the shaft, until a broken piece of metal suddenly caught between the cable and the pulley. Wolfwood was brought to an unexpected halt, just a few metres from the ground.

He dropped down, and searched for a weapon. Lancer would be after him in a minute, he was sure. He believed Wolfwood to be trapped, defenceless, and vulnerable.

It only took a few moments for Wolfwood to undo all three of those. Well, he was still trapped, but he was no longer defenceless or vulnerable. Durendal was only slightly covered by the charred remains of Wolfwoods cross gun cover.

"Damn, that thing's gonna take ages to replace." He said to himself, yanking the sword out by its hilt. Despite the grimy and dirty surroundings, it had managed to stay beautifully shiny. Wolfwood could almost appreciate it's wonderful design and craftsmanship. It was just the thought of it's owner that made Wolfwood feel sick about using it.

A thud behind him. Wolfwood turned, and once again, was facing Lancer's demonic smile.

"You seem to have driven yourself into a very tight spot indeed." Wolfwood knew he was right. The shaft was only a few square metres, not much bigger than the lift itself. In this much space, all his guns were useless against Lancer simple, but effective, close range weapon. The one thing going for Wolfwood was the element of surprise. He stashed the sword in his pocket, and grabbed a random bar of metal.

Wolfwood had never fought with a sword in his life. He had tried using his cross gun like one before, but it was far to awkward to be truly useful. But using such heavy equipment had strengthened his arms to abnormal levels, so although he knew little about moves with a sword, he still managed to hold his ground as Lancer pounded him with stroke after stroke with his far longer weapon.

Eventually, though, Lancer hit so hard, the pole snapped, and Wolfwood was thrown backwards.

"That's it! I'm sick of you!" Lancer held his spear, as if preparing for something. Wolfwood reached into his jacket. "Screw the rules – I want killing! GAE BOLK!" Lancer screamed, his voice echoing throughout the narrow shaft, giving an unearthly element to it. Wolfwood brought Durendal up. Time to see whether or not Gilgamesh's power was as much as he boasted.

Lancers speared glowed for a moment, and then in the blink of an eye, it had rebounded off the ground, and straight towards Wolfwoods heart.

Wolfwood felt like his hands were being pulled around, as the sword moved into the perfect position to block the blow. The spear collided with the sword, and bounced off, splintering into ten different pieces.

Lancer gasped, a look of horror crossing his face. Wolfwood was stunned, as the sword started to glow. Hesitating slightly, he stabbed forward at Lancer, aiming for his shoulder.  
He missed, but not because Lancer dodged it, or because Wolfwood was a bad aim. The sword was drawn towards Lancer's heart. Although Wolfwood tried to disable him, the sword impaled him through the chest. Wolfwood, shocked at how easily Lancer's armour had crumpled, drew the sword out, and Lancer collapsed to the ground.

"Where… Did you get that sword…?" Lancer drifted off.

Wolfwood check his pulse. His heart was still beating, and he was still breathing quite well. The only thing wrong was his unconsciousness, and massive hole in his chest. But that could be cleared up later. For now, Wolfwood had won the round.

Wolfwood picked up Lancers body, and placed him up on a ledge, in front of the first basement door. Using a crowbar-shaped piece of debris, Wolfwood forced the door open, and pulled Lancer out into the first basement.

Above the lift door, the indicator was going crazy, flashing red and green lights all over the place. Someone had hung an 'out of order' sign on it.

Wolfwood sighed.

"I guess I'll be taking the stairs…"

Above the lift shaft, Death By Chocolate watched Wolfwood leave.

"Where did he get that sword?" He had already interrupted several instances of cheating in this round, but this wasn't technically cheating yet. He made a mental note to keep an eye on Wolfwood and Lancer, until he understood exactly what was going on.

**A/N Well, ok, that's Lancer finished. No, he isn't dead. He's a servant, he can survive that sort of thing. Sorry for destroying yet more of the mall Av. I doubt there'll be much left for the grand opening by the end of this.**

**Also, any objections to me using your character in this way? Lemme know, cos he's probably going to be instrumental in the next tweening chapter.**

**Good luck Mental with your chapter, and good luck everyone in the next round.**




	6. Round 3 Prelude: Angel

Wandering the mall at random was becoming one of Wolfwoods favourite pastimes. He was starting to get a feel for the place; he had found several obscure little hidey-holes where he had amassed some heavy weaponry he could use on some of the less-human contestants, if he fought them. Last round he had been caught off guard, and had to use Gilgamesh's sword for lack of the rail gun he had been hoping to use against Lancer. Still, that meant that later, someone else would be in extreme pain because of it.

The time between the rounds was when the mall seemed crowded. It wasn't, by Wolfwoods standards, a very large crowd, nor did it seem to be as large a crowd as the mall could contain, but it wasn't such an isolated place either.

Where these people came from, and why they were all here, Wolfwood still hadn't figured out. Many of them were contestants; others worked the nightshift as security guards and janitors, and apparently lived here during the day, or something. Some were builders and repairers. Wolfwood had noticed earlier that the elevator he had blown up was now fenced off, with an army of heavy built men with fluro vests clearing the rubble out from the basement floor. It was kind of a reminder to Wolfwood; that this mall was still going to be opened in a few more days, and that the general public probably wouldn't want to shop in a ruin.

Looking down the lift shaft again had reminded Wolfwood of something else… Just one floor below, Gilgamesh was still waiting for him. Waiting for the delivery of an unconscious Lancer, for whatever purpose he had planned.

For once in his life, Wolfwood had finally listened to Vash… and he wasn't here to see it. Of course, while he had spared Lancers life by protecting him, he had also broken his promise to Gilgamesh. Wolfwood wasn't sure what Vash would have thought of that one, but he was almost completely sure of how Gilgamesh would respond. He wasn't too thrilled about it.

A few hours ago, Wolfwood had carried Lancer, unconscious, up the stairs to the third floor, where a small first aid shop had been converted to a full on hospital. Contestants, injured contestants, and some severely injured ex-contestants gathered here between rounds. It was just about the only place untouched by the violent nature of the fighting tournament, a fact that many patients were grateful for.

Wolfwood had only needed a few bandaids, an ice pack, and a fresh bandage on the shoulder that Valentine had nicked with his bullet. After that, he left Lancer unconscious on a stretcher there, and headed up to the sixth floor.

_Come to think of it, I wonder if any of the nurses have noticed him yet… _

_Oh well, never mind that now._

Eventually, Wolfwood had made his way here; through a massive department store, out into the staff only corridor, down half a flight of stairs, and into the janitors closet on the right. Inside was his treasure trove of weaponry gathered from the wreckage of the gun shop. Well, this was just a small part of it. It was his _heavy_ weapons stock; high-powered grenades, mortars, rocket launchers, RPGs, a single machine-gun turret. It was all going to come in useful, since he was fighting Kyuubi.

Rumour had spread through the mall about him. Stuff like; he was a demon disguised as a human, his true form was a fox with nine tails, he ate the raw flesh of humans, he ran an exclusive nightclub next-door… It all sounded completely absurd to Wolfwood. But one thing was for sure; Kyuubi was an dangerous fighter, and Wolfwood would have to be on his guard, with his biggest guns, if he wanted to beat him.

His other opponent, Orochimaru, was a little less notorious, but perhaps even more deadly. All Wolfwood knew about him was that he had seen Deadpool in the hospital before, head detached from shoulders.

Wolfwood thought about everything he knew about his opponents. In a few seconds, he started thinking about something else.

"No, no, stay focussed… What do I know…?"

"I know a few things that may help us out." A sweet high-pitched voice resounded from behind him. Wolfwood spun instantly, bringing his arm up, aim straight, and trigger finger down… Not realizing how stupid firing his gun would be in a tiny room chock-full of explosives and flammables.

"Crap!" he screamed, unable to stop his finger being drawn back. Thank God, his hand was empty. Wolfwood stood for a second, dumbfounded, then caught on to the fact that he looked like an idiot, panting and sweating, fingers pointed, as if pretending to hold a gun, towards an empty doorway. Wait, the doorway was empty, but where was the giggling coming from?

"Down here!" laughed the voice. Looking down, Wolfwood was, once again, amazed by one of earth's most bizarre sights. A tiny little koala, or bear… or dog? It didn't seem like any animal Wolfwood had ever seen.

"What, uh… I mean, who are you?" He said awkwardly. He had never really exchanged a formal greeting with someone outside his own species before. The little koala giggled again.

"I am experiment number 624, your partner for this round. Call me Angel."

"Partner? What partner? Why do I need a partner?"

"Didn't you hear the announcement? This round is to be fought in pairs. You and me versus Kyuubi and Orochimaru." Finally Wolfwood caught on.

"Right, _you're_ my partner. Sorry, I guess I just zoned out at that part."

"That's ok, but now you've gone and wasted all that time while I was looking for you-"

"How did you find me here anyway? I picked this place specifically because it was hard to get to, out of the way, and the most obscure place I could think of. Out of everywhere in the entire mall I could have been, what made you think I was here?" Wolfwood questioned.

"Simple, I snuck in to the security booth, and watched you walk here on tape." She pointed at one off the cameras, its bright reflective eye staring straight into Wolfwoods 'secret' room. Wolfwood looked embarrassed. He quickly sought a change of subject.

"Uh, so anyway, what can you tell me about our opposition?" Angels smile widened even more.

"I have a friend collecting info for me." She picked up a small A4 envelope of paper, from on the ground next to her, and looked briefly through it. "Orochimaru: ninja, sheds his own body, summons snakes, can extend limbs, carries a sword, hidden somewhere on body… Fairly simple."

"Simple!" Wolfwood exclaimed. He had dealt with a few strange people in the past, but this snake man seemed far beyond his weirdest exaggerations.

"Yes – much simpler at least than Kyuubi."

"What does he do?"

"Didn't you see what happened last Round? He tried to kill his opponent - and almost burnt the whole building down! He's strong enough to take a stab in the chest, and come out on top, he has control of demon fire, and he's possibly the fastest guy here. But there is good news for us. Those two hate eachother. Rumour is that they've got their own sick competition – first to make a kill, or something. That doesn't help us much, but if we fight smart, we could use hat against them."

"Right." Wolfwood thought for several seconds, and then put his hand on a C-4 detonator, lying next to him. "I have an idea, but we need a good spot. Our biggest problem is that Kyuubi is near invincible, right?"

"That, and that Orochimaru is hard to catch."

"Ok, well if we can get enough of this stuff." He patted a small chunk of plastic explosive. "We could try and blow them out of a window. The problem there is, I only have this much." He held up the tennis-ball sized piece he had been fiddling with. Angel sat down on a box and gave it some thought.

"I think I know just the place."

"Why on earth would anyone keep a massive tank of flammable liquid outside their shop?" Wolfwood wondered aloud. They were standing in the indoor parking lot on the fifth floor, where there was a huge gas station. 16 bowsers were lined up in 4 rows, and next to the shopfront, three enormous fuel tanks sat idly.

"Don't ask me why, but they use it to power their vehicles."

"What, like cars and stuff? Why not use Plants?"

"_Plants?_" Angel replied in confusion. Wolfwood was reminded, again, that this was not his home planet.

"Never mind…" He looked around the car park, trying to piece together a plan. Ideally, they would be able to draw Kyuubi behind the tanks, and then detonate the plastic explosive, which in turn would ignite the petrol in the tanks, and blast Kyuubi over the thick concrete railings around the edge of the car park. The biggest problem with that would be ensuring that he and Angel would survive. Wolfwood had no idea just how big the explosion would be, but it certainly wouldn't be insignificant. More likely than not, it would tear the entire parking lot apart, and even the stores above and below it. And after that, Wolfwood still had no idea what to do about Orochimaru, assuming he wasn't caught in the same trap as Kyuubi. He hoped his partner would have some ideas.

"What do we do about Orochimaru?" Angel asked. So much for that.

"I guess we just… play it by ear. I'll set up this, you keep a lookout."

"The round has already started, what if I go look for them, see if we can get an early edge?" Wolfwood nodded, and she scuttled off on four legs. _What an odd creature_. Wolfwood thought. Dropping his cross-gun and other appropriated weaponry, he set about his task.

Wolfwood stepped into the elevator that connected the car park to the rest of the mall. Angel had left over 10 minutes ago. Considering the fight had already started before then, it was possible she was in trouble. Or lost. Either way, Wolfwood had resolved to look for her. This elevator only serviced 3 floors. The 4th, 5th and 6th. When Angel left, Wolfwood had seen the indicator heading down, so the 4th floor was as good a place as any to start.

As Wolfwood reached out to press the button, he felt a chill pass through his hand… up his arm… and along his spine. Before him, a faint outline of a person appeared. Nervously, Wolfwood reached into his jacket, and drew out a heavy pistol. This one was semi automatic, 35 shots per magazine, but with no laser dot.

The figure materialized into the incorporeal form of Gilgamesh, still dressed in outrageous golden armour, arms crossed, smiling.

"What are you doing here, Wolfwood?" He asked, his voice seeming to echo endlessly, even within the confines of the lift. Panicking, Wolfwood fired, several times, straight into Gilgamesh's head. The bullets passed right through him, making small dents in the wall behind. "Now, now, why so violent? I just came to ask for my sword back. Where is it?"

"I… Lost it." Wolfwood was stuck for words. He kept his gun up, just in case.

"Oh," His gleaming red eyes slipped downwards into a frown. "And what about Lancer, eh? You won thanks to me, did you not?"

"Yes-"

"Then why didn't you do as I asked?" Wolfwood didn't reply. Gilgamesh's transparent eyes drilled into him. Even without being completely there, they still had a way of getting into his head; it was all Wolfwood could do to stay silent.

Finally, Gilgamesh leaned forward, his face passing straight through the gun.

"Bring me Lancer. If you don't, I will find another way to get to him. Then I will come after you."

"Wouldn't Death By Chocolate object to the death of two of his contestants?" Wolfwood tried. This only seemed to make Gilgamesh angrier.

"The Demon would never know, and couldn't possibly find out!" From one corner of the lift, Wolfwood heard a hiss, then a thump. "Now, you had better get back to your petty little fights. When the round is over, I expect you to bring me back my sword, with Lancer. In a body bag, preferably." Gilgamesh vanished.

With no time to waste thinking about the threat, Wolfwood turned his attention to the thing that had dropped into the lift. It was a snake. It had crawled in through the emergency exit hatch in the top left corner, and was currently slithering along towards Wolfwood's leg, where it would-

BANG!

Wolfwood hit it right between the eyes. It squirmed and twitched for a few seconds, before lying still. Then it seemed to dissolve before his eyes. Wolfwood was quite convinced that this was one of Orochimarus scouts.

Hitting the '4' button, Wolfwood rode the lift down, and stepped onto the fourth floor. It was time to find his partner.


	7. Round 3: Kyuubi & Orochimaru

Wolfwood stepped into the elevator that connected the car park to the rest of the mall

Walking through the corridors of the fourth floor, Wolfwood held his pistol out in front. At one point he saw another snake, which he also shot. No doubt Orochimaru was onto him now. He stuck his head carefully round a corner, checking it was all clear, and then continued.

A few long corridors later, Wolfwood burst into the open shopping area. It was a long space, with two rows of shopfronts, and a large gap in between, that went right down to the ground floor. Every hundred-odd metre, the gap was split by a kind of bridge way between the two sides.

Wolfwood holstered his pistol, and unslung his cross gun. His cover had been disintegrated in the elevator wreckage last round, so there was no need to unwrap it. Some might have said it was simpler that way, but Wolfwood preferred the theatrics of dramatically tearing off the cloth to reveal his beautiful, shiny deliverer of heavenly thunder! Not to mention, since not having the cover, Wolfwood could already see scratches and finger marks all over it.

Holding the cross gun in front of him, Wolfwood looked carefully around for any of the peo… or rather, _contestants_ that he was meant to be fighting. He needn't have looked so hard; it wasn't like anyone could have missed them.

Angel came crashing through the window of a Kingsley's store further along, dripping in cooking oil. Seeing Wolfwood, she immediately began running towards him, and then sliding towards him, as her feet slipped on the tiled floor. Eventually, she collided with a pot-plant halfway along. Then an army of snakes poured out from the same shop, followed by Orochimaru.

Wolfwood didn't have time to ask Angels opinion, but he figured it might be best if he laid down covering fire. He levelled his gun out, and fired.

The mass of snakes suddenly trembled, as the onslaught of lead ripped through their ranks. The tiles chipped, cracked, and were completely blown away, while the snakes simply dropped, and disappeared. Orochimaru, after being hit several times, leapt back through the shop window, now almost completely consumed by the hail of bullets pelting the area. By the time Wolfwood's gun used up a full clip, only three snakes were left, and neither of his opponents were in sight. Angel made a run for it.

"What happened?" Wolfwood asked, as she caught up. They both began running together, towards the elevator to the parking lot.

"I found them, arguing with eachother about the last round. I think they each think that the other killed their opponent, so they each claim that the other has lost the bet, but that they themselves haven't because technically each of their opponents are still alive." Wolfwood frowned, utterly bewildered. He decided simply to turn away rather than try and understand. He watched to his left as they ran past shop window after shop window, and occasionally a window presenting a view of the city. Suddenly, he screeched to a halt. He looked carefully out the window they had just run past. Nothing.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. I just thought I saw something."

Outside, Mew-two pressed his back against the wall. The priest almost saw him then. Damn! He would have to be sneakier. If anyone else knew that Death By Chocolate was trying to rig the fight, the credibility of the host, the mall, and this entire tournament would be overturned. Not to mention _his_ favour from the demon would be out of the question.

He poked his head back around. No one was looking now. The priest and the experiment seemed preoccupied. Not good. They were in such a vulnerable position. Perhaps he would have to reveal himself to Wolfwood. But not directly. He had to manipulate this fight without being seen.

Wolfwood looked ahead, to see Kyuubi standing there, 100 metres away, right between them and the lift.

"Well, well, well, someone's backed themselves into a corner." He said, casually.

"Orochimaru's coming" whispered Angel, pointing behind.

"You want some more of this!" Wolfwood shouted, turning to face the new opponent, holding his gun warningly.

"Don't let him fool you Orochimaru, he's out." Said Kyuubi, smugly. For a split second, Wolfwood thought the situation had just collapsed. Kyuubi had called his bluff; he hadn't had time to reload. But, to his surprise, Orochimaru still hesitated.

"I _know _he's out Kyuubi. You don't need to lecture me on basic fighting sense." Orochimaru hissed the last word. Kyuubi seemed taken aback.

"I wasn't lecturing you, you snake. Merely informing you. If I have to work with you, I don't want you being deceived by cheap, barbaric tricks that could lose us a fight."

"Well, at least I _know _the limits of my competitors, and am not so immature as to keep killing them, long after the round is over."

"We talked about this – we're even! How dare you bring it up!" Kyuubis eyes flashed red.

"Listen, I'll take Orochimaru, you go for Kyuubi." Wolfwood whispered to Angel, as the two continued to yell over the top of them.

"No way – I can barely stand my ground against Orochimaru, I won't last 10 seconds against the demon!"

"And you expect me to do any better?" Wolfwood shifted nervously.

"Well, you're a priest aren't you? Don't you fight demons all the time? Why else do you carry a gun shaped like a cross?"

"I fight… different demons"

_"Fight the demon,"_ a voice echoed through Wolfwoods mind.

"What was that?"

"I didn't say anything, but please don't make me go against Kyuubi!" replied Angel.

_"Just fight the demon, Wolfwood. Trust me."_

"Trust you! I can't see you, don't know who you are…"

"Who?"

"Dammit – I'm going crazy! Alright – I'll fight Kyuubi." Wolfwood announced, not knowing if the voice could even hear him.

_"That's better. Just trust me, I'll get you through this." _Ok, so the voice could hear him. Wolfwood turned back around to face Kyuubi. He felt Angel leave his side, leaping towards Orochimaru. Wolfwood was alone, and yet he felt comforted. It didn't occur to him that hearing voices in his head wasn't a great endorsement to his sanity. He charged at Kyuubi, reloading as he went.

"What do you expect to do, mortal?" Kyuubi laughed, still standing completely still in the middle of the walkway. Wolfwood brought his gun up, and blasted Kyuubi.

The bullets pelted through the air, invisible to Wolfwood, straight towards Kyuubi's head. He still didn't move though. Wolfwood continued walking forwards, keeping the trigger held firmly down. The gun rattled as it pumped out a hundred rounds per second at supersonic speed. It took about ten seconds of finger jarring, ear-splitting shooting until Wolfwood stopped, exhausted.

And realised how unperturbed Kyuubi was about it all.

There was no way he could have missed. At _least _half of those bullets must have been on target; Wolfwood never missed.

"Is that all, mortal?" Kyuubi grinned. "Come on, bring it!" Wolfwood obliged, reaching into his jacket for his pistol. Less shrapnel, more punch.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

This time, Wolfwood watched more carefully where he was aiming. To his surprise, while each shot seemed to fly perfectly true, a sphere of flame seemed to emerge around Kyuubi, enveloping him in the aura of red, yellow and purple. The bullets, heading straight for his forehead, slowed to a halt, and exploded in the heat. The aura vanished, and Kyuubi stood, still grinning.

"Are you done yet?" He sounded bored. Wolfwood tried once more, this time flipping his cross gun around, short end forwards. He opened his mouth to say something, but his throat was dry. Perhaps it was the heat, perhaps, though he hated to admit it, he was nervous. With a grim expression, Wolfwood dropped to his knees and loosed the projectile.

Kyuubi had anticipated the rocket, and had buffed up his aura appropriately. One thing he had missed was that Wolfwood wasn't aiming for him – but the ground beneath him.

The missile exploded in front of Kyuubi with colossal force, obliterating everything in a ten-metre radius, except for Kyuubi, who didn't seem to obey the laws of physics, and simply stood still even as the ground he was standing on fell from beneath him. The beginnings of a smile tugged at his lips, and he allowed himself to drop down onto the rubble below.

Wolfwood waited until the dust had cleared. Kyuubi was gone. He must have fallen down. Or jumped. Or tried some tricky demon thing, and was now waiting in the shadows to leap out on Wolfwood and rip him apart.

_Stay positive here; let's just assume he's down there._ He thought to himself, wandering towards the edge.

Peering over availed little; there was still a thick cloud of drifting dust and smoke. Wolfwood opted to leaping, gently, onto a tall pile of rubble. From there, he could reach that iron bar sticking out, and then swing down onto the –

Suddenly a massive paw shot out from the haze, catching Wolfwood in midair by the throat. Slamming him onto the ground, it dragged him along until he found himself face-to-face with Kyuubi.

Kyuubi had taken on a different form. Not totally different, like a whole other creature, but the same rather fearsome human, with subtle changes to his hands, feet and face, making him look like a fox… a demon fox. His eyes especially shocked Wolfwood.

Looking into those eyes, deep, dark pits that held stories of pain, suffering and torture, centuries older than man, Wolfwood got a small snapshot – just a chip off the iceberg, of just how powerful, and how dark, his opponent was. Those eyes blazed with fury and hate, bred through millennia of being immersed in the suffering; the only home Kyuubi had ever known. Wolfwood was mesmerized, entranced by the tales told in just the simple act of looking into the demons eye. As they stared at him, he felt himself being pulled towards them; a mysterious power urging him to delve deeper into the abyss, explore and discover what might be there, and then… Pain! Burning! Screaming! Wolfwood felt it coursing through his body, burning like molten metal being mixed with his blood, seeping through his vessels, and over his skin, searing his flesh, smouldering his organs, and setting his very soul on fire. He tried to scream, but his mouth felt full, like it was overflowing with raw torment; all he could do is stand there, and feel, even as everything inside him screamed to express the torture

Finally, after what felt like eternity, Wolfwood was snapped back to the present. Kyuubi had him by the throat, his head now thrown back, issuing a demonic roar from his fox-like snout. Wolfwood felt himself being raised into the air; then pulled backwards, and finally…

Hurled headfirst towards a nearby shop window. Wolfwood braced himself, covering his head and preparing for a minimal impact landing… The thought occurred to him that he could have whipped out his pistol, shot the glass out of the window, then braced. But by the time it went through his mind, it was already far too late. He was still feeling unsteady after Kyuubi's stare.

As it was, he smashed the glass with his forearms, followed shortly by his head and shoulders. He felt his skin being torn. Not good. At this speed, he was bound to break an arm. Or a leg. Or both legs.

To Wolfwoods surprise, he landed almost harmlessly. Had he checked the sign above the window going in, he would have noticed the words "Makin' Mattresses", dominating over other such signs as 'Factory Direct' and 'Demon's special, everything free!'. Wolfwood found himself sprawled across the biggest bed he had ever seen.

Kyuubi, to his frustration, realized this the moment _after_ he threw him.

"Dammit, how did I throw you at the only store you could have safely landed in!" He regretfully eyed the sign; "King of Knives", right next to the mattress shop. He would dearly _love _to see the priest land happily in that. Perhaps he would, next time he was close enough. Kyuubi wasn't in the mood for running and chasing.

Wolfwood, meanwhile, had rolled off the mattress, and taken cover behind it. He took a moment to inspect himself.

Nothing was broken, but his forearms were sliced to ribbons, bleeding out thick red liquid, and tiny glass solids. Grabbing a large-ish piece of glass, Wolfwood used it to cut a hole in the mattress in front of him, and then rip two pieces of fabric from it. He quickly wrapped them, tightly as he could manage using only one arm at a time, around the mass of gashes. Time for a proper clean and bandage later. For now, he poked his head over the top of the bed, to see what Kyuubi was up to.

Kyuubi, it seemed, had been waiting for Wolfwood to make a move. Seeing him timidly peeking over the edge, the demon realised that he was out of ideas.

_Good, I think my Demon stare worked._ He decided it was almost time to make a proper move. Something the priest was unlikely to survive.

"Is that all!" He bellowed at the broken shop front. "Are you out of ammo? Did your gun jam up? Do you think it's _my_ turn to make a move?" Kyuubi held his arm out forwards, and it burst into a spectrum of flame. Demon fire. "I'll do, but it seems only fair to warn you…" He drew his arm back "YOU WON'T SURVIVE!"

Wolfwood ducked back behind the mattress, and tried to assess his options. It was then he realised that in any gunfight, a mattress made for hopeless cover. In a firefight, it was even worse. Suddenly the first fireball hit.

_"Don't worry, I got this" _Wolfwood jumped at the voice. It wasn't aloud, it seemed to come from inside his head – who was it? He looked down at his cross. Was it…? No, that's right, it was that voice he had heard earlier. Something about getting him through this. He grabbed his cross and started moving.

Outside; Kyuubi was slowly tearing the store apart. It didn't take much really; in fact, he had taken to flicking fireballs with his pinkie. It didn't matter where they hit, even if they missed the shop completely, they would burn towards It like a magnet. In spite of everything inside being flammable, it still burned.

_Wait a minute, that doesn't work_. Kyuubi thought to himself. Regardless, everything burned under the might of the demon flame. Soon, Kyuubi expected, the puny little man to come crawling out, beset by the blaze, begging to surrender.

Wolfwood suddenly found himself surrounded. He had abandoned his cover bed after it erupted in fire, and ran further back into the shop, where there were massive piles of mattresses to hide behind. However, mattresses burn easily under normal conditions, and this was no ordinary fire. It took all of thirty seconds for the demon fire to consume the entire innards of the factory outlet, trapping Wolfwood between twin towers of raging flames – with ever-growing walls of flame covering all sides.

The heat was almost enough to bring Wolfwood down. Growing up on a desert planet, he was used to heat, used to the parching thirst, the sweat evaporating faster than he could release it… but this was something else. For the second time in so many minutes, Wolfwood was rumbled by just how much this demon was showing him; and none of it good either. He looked at his cross again. He had met worse demons, he was sure. He had been through worse. He would endure this.

Suddenly a path opened in the flame. Like a gust of wind cutting through a thick bank of fog, the fire was pushed back briefly. In a moment, it leapt back up again… only to hit some sort of invisible barrier, which held it firmly at bay. Wolfwood stared hard at the phenomenon, but all he could make out was what looked like a faint sphere of blue light, pushing the fire around it. Wolfwood took a tentative step forward, wondering if it was worth the risk, stepping into the clear.

Behind him, one of the towers of burning mattress collapsed, cutting what was left of his tiny safe-spot in half. He didn't have very much choice.

_"Hurry, I can only keep this up for so long…" _The voice rang through his head again. Wolfwood made a dash for it.

Kyuubi finally tired of his slow roast.

"You can surrender now, or I start to really turn up the heat!" He called. He didn't really care whether or not his opponent could hear him; he _wanted_ to blow up the store. He was having an off day; working with Orochimaru did that to him.

With no response for 30 seconds, he let himself loose on the store.

Wolfwood, running through this mysterious force field, finally met a wall.

"You're kidding me! Doesn't the all-knowing voice realize that there's a wall here?" he yelled to himself, still unconvinced that the voice could hear him.

Outside, Mewtwo grinned.

_"Doesn't the wise old priest realize that there's a hole in the wall, straight to his right" _Wolfwood looked, and saw the hole.

"I'm not _old_, I just… didn't look there…" He muttered, embarrassed. He stepped through the hole, and found himself in a shop that apparently sold knives, and other sharp things, like swords. That reminded Wolfwood; he still had Gilgamesh's sword. Ah well, it didn't seem like much use, for this battle at least.

Just as he stepped into the knife store, the room behind him exploded.

Kyuubi stood still again, watching the epic fireball, feeling the immense satisfaction of blowing it all to hell. Well, not really, seeing as the priest was probably headed somewhere else, but it was fun all the same. Once the explosion had died down, Kyuubi swept his hand in a horizontal motion, causing all the spot fires to go out. He looked at the two immaculate shops next door, with the smoking ruin between them. It looked a little odd. Kyuubi resolved to burn the other shops down, as soon as he was done with the priest.

But Kyuubi needed merely glance to see that the fight was not over. He could sense his opponent's life force somewhere, so he was certainly alive, but he wasn't hiding, mortally injured, in the rubble as Kyuubi had hoped. He turned around quickly. No, nothing behind him. He smirked; of course the gunman was nowhere near as sneaky as most of the ninjas Kyuubi knew. More likely he would be somewhere obvious. But what would he-

BANG!

Kyuubi stumbled, feeling pain for the first time in this battle. He dropped to his knees, his hands flashing to the back of his head, where he could feel a giant hole. The edges of his vision were going black, he could hear blood throbbing through his ears, and he couldn't understand anything going on…

And then it was gone. His vision returned, his mind cleared, the hole in the back of his head healed over. Kyuubi smiled, broadly this time, and turned to face Wolfwood, who was standing in the doorway to "King Of Knives", smoking pistol in his hand.

"Impressive, I must admit. But did you really expect to bring me down for long?"

"I always like to know the limits of my opponents – My biggest concern was that you wouldn't be getting up again." Wolfwood stashed the pistol back into his jacket, and pulled up his cross gun. In reality, he had been surprised he had hit, considering how his earlier shots had gone.

Perhaps it was just that he had taken Kyuubi by surprise. Perhaps it was because Kyuubi was scared. Wolfwood thought about it; Kyuubi had turned around, out of fear that something was behind him. That fear had made him let his guard down, and Wolfwood had gotten the shot in. Sure the shot hadn't harmed Kyuubi, but the idea that the demon could feel fear struck Wolfwood. A plan was starting to form in his mind…

_"Yes, I like that idea." _Wolfwood realized that the voice was referring to his thoughts.

"Oh shut up, why are you even in my head?" Wolfwood whispered. Of course, the voice seemed able to hear his thoughts well enough, but saying it aloud made him feel better. Even if he looked insane. He realized that Kyuubi was speaking again.

"So as a priest, I suppose you don't really believe in demons, eh?" Kyuubi spoke in a soft, direct tone. Wolfwood could tell by the voice, he was testing Wolfwood.

"Of course I do! You cannot have faith in God, and not believe in the Devil, and other divine beings."

"Well then, you should have no problem believing that _I _am a nightmare beyond anything any mere mortal has ever seen!" Kyuubi's aura flared up, as if to emphasize the point.

"Oh, well, I'm sure you're pretty scary, certainly more powerful than me, a 'mere mortal'. But _I _know you're weakness." Kyuubi burst into laughter at this, which soon turned into a hysterical howl. Wolfwood blocked his ears, waiting for the noise to stop.

"_My _weakness? MY WEAKNESS! Have you been paying any attention through this whole fight? You can't hit me – you can't even touch me unless I allow it! Everything you've been through has been under my control; I could have snapped your puny body the moment we started. I HAVE NO WEAKNESS!" Wolfwood scowled.

"Of course by weakness, I didn't mean you have a _physical _weakness. I merely meant that I know what scares you." This time, Wolfwood felt, he had struck a nerve.

"What scares me? Nothing."

"That's right, demon, I know what you're afraid of." Wolfwood could see Kyuubi getting angry. He hoped the voice was paying attention.

"There is NO SUCH THING! Enough with the word games, your life has gone on far longer than necessary." Kyuubi summoned another fireball in his palm, and drew back his arm. Wolfwood tried to take cover with the cross gun, not that it would be any use. Kyuubi hurled the fireball, obliterating the entire shop.

Wolfwood crouched behind his gun; while it didn't help his safety, he liked the ideathat it was protecting him. As the fireball approached, he noticed that everything suddenly became a faint bit bluer. It took him a moment to realize that the force that had carved a path through the inferno before was now surrounding him in a sphere of miraculous protection. Wolfwood watched, fascinated, as the fire curled around him, tearing through the wooden and steel shelving of the store like a baseball bat through a tower of cards, yet leaving him and his immediate area untouched. He shivered as he realised just how close he was to being in that tower.

Soon the fire cleared, leaving the shop looking fairly similar to the ashes next door. Wolfwood stood up, realizing that the force field was gone. Kyuubi was staring at him, in awe.

"WHAT! IMPOSSIBLE!" He bellowed. Wolfwood quickly composed himself. Playing on the demons fears would take some well-delivered theatrics.

"Like I said, I know what you're afraid of." Wolfwood took a step forward. "The thing you fear more than anything in the universe…" He held the cross gun up so that it shone in the florescent lights. The symbolism was all to clear to Kyuubi. "… Is an entity more powerful than you."

"NO!" Kyuubi screeched, suddenly plunging in to an enraged tantrum. His aura glowed, pulsated and swirled, turning from a cool blue fire to a bright, angry red, and back again at a seconds notice. Finally, the demon seemed to take control of his anger, and the fiery aura condensed into a single clump, in the palm of his hand. Kyuubi drew his arm back again, hurtling the fireball. This, Wolfwood noticed, was slower, and slightly less accurate.

_"Move!" _The voice shouted in his mind. Wolfwood dived off to the left, while the fireball crashed into a pillar on the right, between the two burnt-out stores. The fire spread speedily across the floor, engulfing the area Wolfwood had just been in. He found himself under another sign, this one reading "El Taco De La Nacho".

"Wow, what poor Spanish" Wolfwood noted. Kyuubi threw another fireball, then followed up immediately with another. Again, Wolfwood hid behind his cross, as the explosions tore the place apart. From his limited vision, Wolfwood could roughly make out where each one hit. One, almost directly on whatever force was protecting him, and another off to the left… where another pillar was.

The ceiling began to crack, and Wolfwood caught on to Kyuubi's plan. He had to move, now, but the fires kept burning, enveloping his little bubble of safety completely.

Over to the right, Wolfwood heard the ceiling, and probably the floor from the next level, collapsing. He took one more look at the demon flame, which seemed to be thinning. Then, he ran.

Bursting through the flame, Wolfwood charged straight out, much to Kyuubi's surprise, then veered off to the side, upon seeing a store selling seafood. Wolfwood ran in, and jumped straight into one of the freshwater tanks.

Kyuubi took half a second to respond, with yet another fireball. Just was he was about to throw, something caught the corner of his eye. Orochimaru.

Orochimaru leapt from the dust and smoke surrounding the collapsed roof that Wolfwood had escaped from, and landed in front of Kyuubi.

"Orochimaru, I want you to take care of this fight." Kyuubi demanded instantly.

"What? Kyuubi, we are in this as a team; we have to work together to win-"

"I DON'T CARE! YOU SHOULD EASILY BE ABLE TO RIP THESE TWO TO SHREDS, I DON'T NEED TO BE HERE, AND I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE!" Orochimaru was silent, for a moment. Clearly Kyuubi was bothered by something, so he decided it would be best if he just shut up and did as he was asked. Of course, Kyuubi was right, these two would be easy. So why was it taking them so long? And where was that little pink thing anyway?

In the seafood shop, Wolfwood had unsubmerged himself, and after checking the fire was all out, he picked up his gun. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he saw a friendly face. Angel had watched Wolfwood run in here, and quickly followed while Orochimaru and Kyuubi got into another argument.

"Where have you been?" Wolfwood asked, running to the front of the shop to check on their opposition.

"Fighting, just on the floor above you, we could hear Kyuubi, and his fire balls. Then the floor beneath us fell in, and Kyuubi started bossing Orochimaru around. I took my chance, and sought after you." Angel explained. Wolfwood looked at the pair now.

"They still seem to be arguing. We should find a way back to that car park."

"There!" Angel pointed to a small set of plain concrete steps in the corner, just 50 metres away. Wolfwood nodded, and the two broke cover and sprinted.

Up the stairs, Wolfwood tried to pinpoint their location now, relative to their rigged gas station. They were on the fourth floor, so it was on the floor above. The lift that took them there was somewhere about 100 metres straight ahead, which would mean that the station itself was…

"Right above that clothes store there." Angel said, helpfully. Wolfwood just nodded. Perhaps it would be better if they detonated while they were on this floor. There was less chance of either of them getting hurt, but it would be harder to hit their opponents.

Behind them, a hiss issued from the stairway they had just used. Orochimaru was standing at the top, arms at the ready, standing by to re-start the fight.

"Where's Kyuubi?" Angel whispered. Orochimaru heard it though.

"The demon has decided that this battle is beneath him. He has left _me _to take out the trash." The Snake man hissed, sounding insulted about the whole thing.

"Ah, the demon has fallen to one of the seven deadly sins."

"What?" Orochimaru frowned.

"Pride. He's too cocky to even think he needs to fight." Orochimaru thought about this for a moment, before deciding to go on the defence for his partner.

"But, after all, he's right. None of you could match him in power. I doubt you'll even put up enough fight against me. But that's all right. I am quite happy to accept this victory. The only question is, would you prefer the easy way, or the hard way?" Orochimaru grinned sadistically; it was clear which he preferred.

"As a priest, I don't rely on my own strength to see me through." Wolfwood patted the giant cross he carried. The ninja raised an eyebrow.

"You think that God will win this fight for you?"

"I think he already has. In the big scheme of things, this fight has already been planned out. We've already won. You _can't _beat us."

"What, are you a prophet now?" Orochimaru sneered.

"Would you like to find out? Or just surrender, and make it easy?"

Orochimaru leapt forward.

Angel, seeing this movement, sprung out to meet him. The two clashed, in a pink and white blur of flying limbs and fur, and long black hair. Wolfwood opened up the machine gun on his cross, and waited for an ideal time to fire.

Orochimaru and Angel exchanged blows for several minutes; Angel leaping and bouncing off every wall, chair, pot plant or railing in sight, and Orochimaru bending, twisting and stretching to block every move. Finally, after a while of patient defensive manoeuvres, Orochimaru scored a kick to Angel's stomach. The little pink creature went flying, straight past Wolfwoods head. Although this wasn't what Wolfwood was hoping for, it did give him an opportunity to use his expertise.

He fired, blasting a full round of bullets at Orochimaru. To Wolfwoods horror, the disturbingly flexible ninja dodged more than 2/3 of the little lead projectiles. And the few hits that Wolfwood scored, didn't seem to hinder him at all. Orochimaru's bullet wounds closed up almost instantly.

Now just a few metres from the gunman, Orochimaru tilted his head back, opened his mouth wide, and drew out… a sword, from inside his throat.

Wolfwood, disgusted, held up his cross gun like his own big, thick, clumsy sword.

It took three swipes from Orochimaru to send Wolfwood collapsing onto his knees, his gun landing next to him.

"Now, who's the prophet?" the snake man said. "Give me your weapon." Wolfwood carefully reached down, as if to slide the cross over to Orochimaru. _It's now or never, may as well give it a try. _Wolfwood pushed a button on the panel, and a compartment slid open on one of the arms, revealing Wolfwoods trump card.

"Hey, what are you-"  
CLANG!

Wolfwood whipped the sword out of the cross gun, aiming straight for Orochimaru's neck. Unfortunately, being a ninja, Orochimaru's reflexes were well honed and fast; and he blocked the swing with ease.

"Ah, I was hoping for a quick end." Wolfwood grunted, pushing his blade against Orochimaru's, while staring the snake man straight in the eye. They were locked, swords and stares.

"If you like, I could give _you_ a quick end…" He hissed, a threatening glint in his eye.

"I meant for you."

At that moment, a series of shots rang out from behind Orochimaru, and his head shook violently.

Angel was standing behind the ninja, holding Wolfwoods gun, with quite some effort. She smiled, exhaustedly, but apparently satisfied with the reasonable accuracy of her shots.

Orochimaru twisted his head around, a full 180 degrees, to Wolfwoods disgust, and faced Angel. Looking now at the back of his head, Wolfwood could see several bullet holes, creating deep red stains in Orochimaru's shiny black hair.

"Stupid creature; that did nothing." The ninja spat at Angel. Already, Wolfwood noticed, the bleeding had stopped, and the wounds seemed to be vanishing. The bloodstained hair remained though.

Angel snarled, and lifted the gun again. Orochimaru frowned at her. Wolfwood took his chance, and suddenly released their lock, and thrust his sword forwards, piercing Orochimaru straight through his chest, just under his collarbone.

The ninja turned slowly, now appearing to be in obvious pain. In spite of this, he spoke with all the bravado of a fighter going in.

"You cannot harm me, I will only grow, and grow back again!" Wolfwood withdrew his sword, and Orochimaru gasped in pain. The priest could see blood beginning to pour out of the wound.

"Are you sure? I think you might want to have that looked at." He pointed out. Orochimaru slumped onto the tiled floor; face first. Angel appeared, dragging the cross gun, next to him.

"Have we won?"

"That's him down, but Kyuubi is no doubt still watching. He'll be along any moment to take his prize."

"Should we head to the car park?" Angel suggested. Wolfwood shook his head.

"I don't think we could make it that far."

"Then… we could blow it over his head. Like, wait until he's standing underneath the station, then detonate it, and the ceiling would probably collapse on top of him" Wolfwood thought about it for a minute, then replied, grimly.

"That seems our best option. We just need to make sure we fight him at a distance, and keep out of the way when the explosion goes off." Angel nodded in agreement. "Which means this," Wolfwood wiped his sword on Orochimaru's jacket, bringing out the shine of its fine silver blade. Its golden hilt had managed to stay completely clean, but Wolfwood rubbed it down anyway. "Is useless to us."

"Where did you get that from?" Angel asked, curiously.

"I uh… borrowed it. From this guy… uh, look, don't worry."

"I'm just curious. I mean, it would take quite a rare and powerful sword to counteract Orochimaru's regeneration – and that's not the sort of thing your average gunman carries around in his back pocket…"

"No. I carry it in my gun casing." Wolfwood pointed out, placing the sword back there, after recovering his gun from Angel. He was surprised Gilgamesh's sword had worked on Orochimaru, but there was no chance it would stand against Kyuubi. Gilgamesh had admitted himself; he was afraid of demons, and the power they held over him.

"Let's head back to the lift, just in case we can make it before Kyuubi arrives." Angel suggested, after a few seconds of silence. "If he doesn't, we can go with our original plan." They set off towards the car park elevator.

Kyuubi, meanwhile, was watching from a long distance away, on the floor below.

The priest and the abomination had defeated Orochimaru. While it wasn't too surprising, it wasn't what he had planned for. That now meant that he would have to face the priest.

_What am I talking about, he's no match for me! _Kyuubi assured himself. _Orochimaru is a fool, and not worth working with in the first place. This job is an alone job._

_Still_, he reflected, _everything seems to go so well for that man. Like he has a divine power over him… No, don't be stupid, it was all a coincidence. He's had that sword since last round. _Kyuubi tried to think about what the priest might say about this. Probably something like 'the Lord works in mysterious ways', or some lame excuse like that. _Still, no denying, some mysterious things have happened… Like, how did he avoid my fire? And my stare? No mortal can resist the Demons stare, I've driven hundreds insane through it. But he seemed to have something in his head, like a heavenly spirit… No, more likely he's had training against that sort of thing… Yea. Demon fighting training. It's all just a trick. Just trying to psyche me out…_

Finally, sick of arguing with himself, Kyuubi resolved to go and kill the priest, along with the alien, and prove himself right… Or wrong. Both really.

He leapt into the air, and flew towards where he had last seen them.

Angel stopped, and put her arm out in front of Wolfwood.

"I smell something." She sniffed the air for a moment, then suddenly leapt sideways. Confused Wolfwood dived after her; just in time.

Kyuubi roared overhead, apparently carried by a swirling mass of flame. He shot through Wolfwood and Angel's former path, burning a hole in the air where they had been standing just moments ago. Kyuubi stopped himself, some 50 metres ahead, and landed lightly on the ground. The flames around him dissipated, although they seemed to leave a shadow of their wrath behind, reflected in the demons eyes.

"This is it. I'm tired of this match. Time to finish you, now!" Kyuubi's eyes glowed brighter; A bright, blood red, mirroring his inner rage.

_"I hope you have a good plan, because I can only protect you." _Wolfwood heard in his head. He nodded, although the voice didn't seem able to see him.

"At some time in his life, every man must face his demons; but it is only by the power of God that he can ever truly be victorious." Wolfwood quoted, thinking back to his days in the parish.

"God will not save you. Where you're going, no power on heaven, earth or below can." In response, Wolfwood fired his machine gun. As he expected, it did little. "Alright, my turn." Kyuubi smiled, sadistically.

"Get behind me, Angel." Wolfwood whispered to his partner, who was already crouching next to him, waiting for her chance to get into the fight.

Kyuubi roared, a resounding, deep roar that slowly turned into a howl. Fire swirled up around him, incinerating railings, seats and tiling all around him. A bead of sweat ran down Wolfwoods brow; this fire was far more powerful than the others.

Kyuubi released it, blasting the flame in all directions. The wave of fire surged and rolled with unspeakable energy. Wolfwood was sweating all over now, feeling totally overwhelmed.

_"Keep it together Wolfwood; have faith." _Wolfwood breathed deeply, and took cover behind his cross. Faith, that was all he needed. A faint blue glow surrounded Wolfwood and Angel.

The fire swept over them, completely annihilating the surrounding floor, railings, stores, vending machines, signposts, pillars and pot plants. Wolfwood felt the superheated air blasting his face, drying out his mouth and his lungs. The air shook him around like a leaf in the fall, hanging on to its tree for dear life.

Outside, Mewtwo was almost sweating also. The demon had such immense power; just in his fire. Mewtwo was already exhausted from protecting Wolfwoods mind, and then his body, three times. With any luck, the priest would defeat the demon soon, before he ran out of strength. But that seemed unlikely, unless he had more tricks up his sleeve… Like that sword. Mewtwo had almost been driven to interfere directly, until Wolfwood had drawn out that sword. But did he have anything left?

Mewtwo growled with the effort to keep up his shield. He just had to have faith.

Finally, the storm passed, and Wolfwood stood up. A shocked Kyuubi took a step backwards.

"You still can't face it, can you. There are more powerful, and important beings at work here than you, and your petty lust for slaughter!" Wolfwood shouted. This deception didn't seem to be working, short of making the demon infuriated. Wolfwood wondered how he would even survive if he failed, and the demon saw through him…

Angel tugged on his sleeve.

"Give me the sword," she whispered. "I'll sneak up on him, you just keep him distracted." Wolfwood frowned, but opened the compartment anyway.

"How are you going to sneak, you're bright pink!" He asked. Angel grabbed the sword, and ran off into a nearby store. The entire front half had been burnt out, but apparently it was a lingerie shop. Everything in the back half was pink.

Kyuubi, meanwhile was still arguing with himself. Should he call for help? The forces of hell could be here in a moment, and take Wolfwood out before he knew what hit him. But that wouldn't be a fair fight, would it? Not to mention, Death by Chocolate would undoubtedly notice. But he was competing against powers above here.. or was he? Surely not. Surely heaven was busy, distracted, not caring. No, that sounded more like his own home.

Finally, Kyuubi came up with a solution… fight the priest and win, proving himself wrong.

He just hoped he could keep up the invincible demon act long enough.

Wolfwood fired a few more shots. Kyuubi twitched, but his aura still flared, and blocked them out.

Kyuubi threw another fireball. Wolfwood ducked behind his cross, and the force field sheltered him.

For several minutes, nothing happened but a series of shoot and dodge. Wolfwood started moving off to the side, trying to draw Kyuubi to where he thought might hit him. Kyuubi moved along with Wolfwood, blasting any rubble he tried to hide behind, waiting for Wolfwood to slip up, or his shield to break.

Suddenly, Angel burst forth out of the store behind Kyuubi. Holding the sword expertly in front of her, screaming like a maniac, she leapt at the demon. At the same time, Wolfwood flipped his cross gun over, and launched a rocket from the shorter end.

Kyuubi saw both these things at once, and brought forth his aura once again. Wolfwoods rocket it merely glanced off it, deflecting away into the depths of the mall. Angel struck the fiery mass, and was thrown back with such force, Wolfwood thought she must have passed out. Instead she merely landed on both her feet, and bounced forward off the charred black floor. She pounced again and again, bouncing back each time. Finally, with an evil looking grin, Kyuubi dropped his aura. Angel, expecting to hit again, stumbled forwards


	8. Round 4 Prelude: Foreshadowing

Wolfwood rubbed his sore arm, regretfully. Considering the damage, the doctors had done a damn fine job of fixing it up. Although exactly how they had achieved it, Wolfwood had no clue. Half the time he had been held down screaming, the other half he had been unconscious.

Now he was sitting in the foyer of the hospital – which had been completely renovated overnight, trying to stay focused on his options for the next round. His arm was still sore, but with almost no visible sign of how mangled it had become. Perhaps that was just testament to Wolfwoods own stupidity. How could he believe that he could trick a demon like that – especially Kyuubi. How could he have not realized that the monster was leading him on.

"Ah, well…" Wolfwood pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. "It's all in the past now..." A twinge of pain shot through his arm. "Mostly."

He sat still, breathing in the toxic smoke, staring straight at the lino floor in front of him.

Presently he heard a soft humming in his ear. He sat up, and turned to his right... no one there. He heard it behind him – and turned around… still no one.

"Up here, dumb-ass!" Some one yelled. Wolfwood looked straight up –

To find Deadpool staring back at him, inches from his face, hanging upside down.

Suddenly there was a faint crack, and Deadpool dropped, collapsing on top of Wolfwood.

The mercenary picked himself up quickly, and inspected a break in the line that had been holding him to the roof.

"It breaks everytime! How does Spiderman do it?"

"Deadpool – what are you doing here?" Wolfwood exclaimed, cradling his now further bruised arm. He sat himself gently back in his seat.

"I'm here because the author wants to set the scene, and provide some vague foreshadowing for your next match!"

"What are you talking about?" said Wolfwood, completely oblivious to the wall that was being shattered at that moment.

"Oh, and I also had my head sewn back on…" He pointed at the stitches around his neck – although there was no scar there.

"Only now? Didn't you lose it a few rounds back?"

"Nah – I lost it again. My fangirls just can't help but want to take it off me."

"Right…" Wolfwood felt around for his gun. This conversation was just to weird.

"What about you, MIB man? How'd you get in here?"

"MIB man?"

"M I B – Men In Black. Man… You never even told me your actual name."

"Oh… Sorry."

"Yea, whoever wrote that last talk we had was a real-"

"Anyway, my name's Wolfwood." Wolfwood held out his hand for a shake; the mercenary hi-fived it.

"So, anything else you need?" Deadpool asked, smilingly. Wolfwood gave up trying to follow the logic behind that response.

"Well, I doubt you could help me, but I might as well ask anyway…"

"I think you should abort it." Deadpool replied, immediately.

"What?"

"Oh, sorry, wrong question. Please, go on."

"I wonder whether or not you've fought Marluxia yet?" Deadpool shook his head, still smiling. "Ok… Do you know much about Marluxia's fighting style?" More shaking… More smiling. "Right. Do you even know where I might go about finding Marluxia?" More smiling, but at least the shaking stopped. "You do?" Wolfwood said, hopefully.

"Of course I do, you'd have to be a complete psycho to miss that!" Deadpool paused. "On second thought – you'd have to be a complete psycho, who doesn't pay attention to anything, and forgets everything else. After all, even I know about it."

"Know about what?"

"The GARDEN!" Deadpool raised his voice dramatically. Wolfwood half expected to hear thunder, and see lightning. What a letdown. The fluorescent light flickered a bit though.

"The garden?"

"The GARDEN!"

"What is '_the garden'?_"

"It's where Marluxia has set up camp. It's a massive garden, full of gigantic deadly plants, all grown by him. He started in the hedge maze, but since then it's been spreading – now it takes up almost the entire lower west wing of the mall! Rumour has it that, if Marluxia doesn't win, he'll envelope the entire mall in a poisonous jungle of doom!"

"So… I suppose his element would be plants?"

"No, electricity."

"It is?"

"Of course it's plants, idiot. But why on earth would you take my word for it? Don't you have any idea how screwed up _my_ mind is?"

"Actually I have no idea, but you're advice, or whatever you call it, has been good so far. So I need to get into this garden, full of poisonous and deadly plants, under control of my opponent?"

"Uh-huh."

"I just want your opinion one last time."

"Yeah?"

"How would you do it?" Deadpool lay back in the seat next to Wolfwood.

"I would get… A great, big Bulldozer, or some other vehicle, and plough through the lower floor of the mall in it. Then, when you're done, look through the leftover destruction, and try and find his mangled corpse!"

"I wonder why I even bothered." Wolfwood sighed, propping his chin up with his fist.

"Like I said – vague foreshadowing. It shouldn't take a genius to figure out what'll happen to you in the next fight." Deadpool stood up, and pulled a coil of spider web out of a pouch on his belt.

"Wait… what does that even mean?!" Wolfwood called, but Deadpool had already strode out the door, tossed the line up at the roof, and leapt over the edge of a balcony, using it to swing over the floor below.

"YAHOO! Hello everyone, I'm your friendly neighborhood-"

CRACK!

The spider web snapped, sending Deadpool hurtling to his apparent doom, in a deserted cosmetics shop.

Wolfwood leaned over the edge, observing the crash from afar.

"Wow, don't you look pretty. Everyone look, it's the Merc with the lip-stick coated mouth!"

"SHUT UP, MAN IN BLACK!"

Looking down from the balcony, the next store along caught Wolfwoods eye:

_MIKE'S MONSTERS – for all your monster-trucking needs!_

He groaned. That psychopath only got more and more annoying by being right. Wolfwood headed off in the direction of the lift.

* * *

Mike, the salesman, was surprisingly helpful. He showed Wolfwood the best model vehicle for his task – The PlantStripper 1030x – and showed off all the features of it. Wolfwood found the triple armoured cabin, 9-foot tyres, and bladed bumper-bar appealing.

Then Mike gave him the keys, and Wolfwood was off. Turning the key, the beast of a monster truck came to life, in a triumphant roar of diesel-powered fury. Mike, standing behind the vehicle, was blasted in the face with a burst of thick black smoke.

Wolfwood pushed the pedal straight to the floor, and the truck leapt forward… and stalled. Wolfwood had never driven a car in his life. A spluttering Mike wandered over to the driver side, and climbed up the ladder.

"Ah, one other handy feature: The auto-driver. I'd recommend it for you."

"Thanks." Wolfwood said, through gritted teeth. He pressed the auto-driver button.

The bottom of the drivers seat burst open, throwing Wolfwood up and forward, against the windscreen. Wolfwood could almost feel the words _Triple-armoured... _Floating through his head. He groaned.

He sat back down in the passenger seat; the driver seat was now taken by a huge inflated plastic man, dressed in an airline pilots uniform.

"Take me... to the Garden" Said Wolfwood. The air-filled driver said nothing, but Wolfwood could swear it winked at him...

And then they were off, with a mighty roar, leaving Mike all alone in the black smog left behind.

* * *

  
"AXEL!" Shouted the black-cloaked figure, pushing through the corridors of workers. In his office, Axel heard the noise and cringed. Death by Chocolate had warned him that someone from the organization had arrive, but on hearing that voice, Axel realised it was one of the last people he wanted to see; Zexion.

"Come in." Axel muttered, more to himself than as an actual invitation. He put the little chocolate he had been about to unwrap back in its bowl. It was the last one in their, to his disappointment.

The door burst open, slamming into the wall next to it, and Zexion stormed in. On the best of days, Zexion was brooding and anti-social. But days like today, when he was really mad, he was loud, commanding, and snapped like a twig. Days like these were some of Axel's most fun times.

"Cheer up, emo nobody!" Axel said cheerily, leaning back in his seat.

"What did you just call me?" Zexion scowled down at Axel.

"Oh sorry, that didn't come out right. I meant: 'What up, mighty nobody?'"

"Of course…" the dark-haired nobody was unconvinced. Axel just sat and smiled. "Anyway, normally I wouldn't ask such an important task of you… for obvious reasons…" Suddenly, Zexion slammed his fist on the massive wooden desk between them. "Stop that – this is a serious assignment!" Axel took his finger out of his nose, where it had been digging, in his boredom.

"Sorry."  
"As I was saying, you are _definitely _not suited for this assignment, but you happen to be in the right place at the right time, so I'm giving it to you anyway."

"I'm listening. With one ear at least." Axel's hand drifted towards one of his ears. Zexion grabbed his arm, and slammed it against the luxurious mahogany.

"_Listen! _This is _Important._" Taking the seat opposite Axel, Zexion hissed straight into his face. "There is dissent in the Organization!"

"What?"

"We've gotten wind of a treacherous plot, lead by Marluxia. We think he may act against us if we put him in charge of our next project."

"A plot to overthrow his own organization? Are you sure your head is on straight? Who is '_us'_ anyway? Wouldn't '_us_' include him?"

"We, the inner circle. The _top _organization members. Marluxia, and some others… we don't know who… are going to use the castle-"

"-Castle Oblivion?" Axel interjected.

"Yes, Castle Oblivion, against us."

"How does one go about using a castle against someone?" Axel grinned.

"Look, this is a serious assignment, do you want it or not?"

"You haven't told me what I'm doing yet – or why you think you can trust me."

"Well stop interrupting with your stupid questions. We don't trust you – you're just here at the right time, and seem the most unlikely to be involved… because no one trusts you."

"Thanks, I feel better now. So, can you _please _tell me what the task is?" Axel could see a vein pulsing in Zexions temple, even through his thick, dark fringe. It was all he could do to hold back laughter.

"Your task is simple; gain their trust. Find out who they are, find out their plan, and report back to me." Zexion smiled, deviously. "I will offer you protection, from what is likely to be a bloody and violent massacre. Just go to Marluxia, and find out about it."

"And how should I do that exactly – '_Zexion told me to join your secret group, but don't worry, you can trust me._' Yeah, I'm sure that'll go down real well_._"

"Just use your own… unique style. You seem to be very good at it." Zexion tried to keep up his smile, through clenched teeth. "You need to make sure they really do trust you. Tell them whatever you need to, do whatever they say. Whatever it takes. You can start as soon as this fight's over." Zexion reached forward, to retrieve Axel's last chocolate from the bowl.

"Ah, I wouldn't eat that if I were you!" Zexion paused.

"Why not?"

"Because… Well, y'know… there's a chocolate demon around…" Axel looked away from Zexion.

"Right…" Zexion sounded unconvinced, but withdrew his hand anyway.

"Why don't I just start now?" Axel asked, shifting the subject.

"Aren't the contestants fighting right now?"

"Of course they are, but that won't stop me. After all…" Axel stretched his arms, and yawned, much to Zexions disgust. "Death By Chocolate has made me a high level executive – I have authority to interrupt, disturb, and otherwise upend the organization of the fights as much as I feel the need to. And right now, I'm feeling very needy." Axel winked. Zexion groaned inwardly. It was a bad idea to trust Axel with this. Outwardly, he just stood up apathetically.

"Whatever you do, do it fast, and do it well." Axel rolled his eyes. Zexion had always bugged him with his over-seriousness. Of course, he had always bugged Zexion even more, with his lack thereof.

"What if I decide not to take this assignment – I might be more suited to life outside the organization, like Roxas. Or maybe I could actually join the other side…"

"Then I'll kill you right now!" Zexion shouted, grabbing Axel by the throat, to emphasize the point. "Because the lives of every member of this organization – including your wayward friend Roxas – are on the line. If you want to enjoy whatever shreds of life you have left; if you want even a hope of getting your heart back, you will listen to me!" Zexion released his grip. Axel had barely faltered, although he fell silent at the mention of Roxas. "We need to quell this rebellion immediately. I suggest you get to it."

"Fine." Axel folded his arms. Zexion turned towards the door.

"Remember Axel," he called over his shoulder. "You just have to gain their trust."

"Hey Zexion," Axel yelled after him. "Watch out – you've got some chocolate on your finger!"

Zexion walked out, leaving Axel alone in his office.

As soon as the last trails of his black cloak had vanished from sight, Axel grabbed the little chocolate, tore it open, and popped it in his mouth.

Out in the hallway, Zexion checked his hands in fear. False alarm. He sighed to himself.

"Perhaps I should talk to Vexen. He'd know what to do. He'd even do it willingly. But of course, that's just what would make them suspicious. Or maybe he's already part of it…"

He resolved to go and find out. He stormed down the corridor, in search of anyone, apart from Axel, who might know where Vexen was.

* * *

Driving down wide stairways throughout the mall, scraping the banisters with the monster trucks massive tyres, Wolfwood and his plastic companion were jostled and tossed up and down in the cabin, despite the seatbelts and the ridiculously huge suspension system. Wolfwood hoped the huge stock of weapons and ammo he had piled on the back weren't too roughed up. The last thing he needed was that rail gun going off at a bad time.

Progress was slow; finding ways down that weren't to narrow was proving to be quite a challenge. On the bright side though, to Wolfwood's surprise, the truck could fit almost everywhere in the mall. Sometimes the roof was low enough to scrape, and most small stores were barely big enough to contain it, but its manoeuvrability was overall surprising.

Finally after many a tight squeeze, and several vertical drops, they made it down to the first floor. The inflatable autopilot faithfully drove on toward the west wing… and braked hard, as he nearly collided with a tree.

"What the-" Wolfwood spluttered through his constricted throat; his seatbelt had tightened very fast around it. Recovering, Wolfwood took a little time to investigate the tree further. "Is that… growing out of a fountain?" The giant inflated pilots face seemed to sway up and down. Probably just from inertia.

The tree was about half a metre thick, and stretched all the way up to the roof, high above them. Just how high, Wolfwood couldn't tell, because all the fluorescent lights in this area were out. Typical.

What was most interesting was the terrain the tree was growing on; there was no dirt anywhere to be found here. The base of the tree sat on the top tier of a large water fountain. The roots spread out a bit, then cascaded down to the second tier, then the third, and finally converged in a tangled mass in and around the basin of the fountain. The marble exterior was cracked in several places, and the pipes were broken too. The pump, however, was still operational, sending constant streams of fine water droplets bursting out through the cracks. This thin spray hung in the air, surrounding the tree in an eerie mist. Having rarely even seen a tree before in his life, Wolfwood was in awe of the spectacle. And it was only one tree.

After a minute of shocked silence, Wolfwood finally noticed what was behind the tree, and around it, and around them – in fact, it was everywhere. They had stopped right at the outskirts of a huge group of trees, and other plants; each of them in unique and unusual positions… almost like someone had forced them to grow anywhere they could fit. They were in the garden of Marluxia. But this was no garden – it was a forest.

"Go in further, and hide the truck somewhere. I'll go ahead on foot." With an affirming beep, the autopilot revved the engine again. Wolfwood opened the door, and leapt down the stepladder, crossgun slung to his back. The Truck rode off slowly to the right, deeper into the forest. Wolfwood strode forward in another direction, alone. 


	9. Round 4: Marluxia

Wolfwood climbed up one of the trees with the most branches, deep in the middle of the Garden. His diamond studded Rolex watch he had borrowed from a jewellery shop told him that the round had begun, five minutes ago.

He still hadn't caught sight of Marluxia yet, but he was sure he was nearing the centre of the garden. The trees were getting larger, thicker, and more dangerous. Around the trees, plants were popping up. Not ordinary plants either; overgrown Venus flytraps; easily large enough to swallow a man whole, grew throughout the garden. One had taken a snap at Wolfwood, who immediately shot it several times with his pistol, wincing as the gunshots echoed throughout the vast forest. Thickets that would normally be a slight pain were made extremely deadly, with their massive thorns, sharpened to a fine cutting point on all sides. Huge areas were taken up by a fungi-like plant that looked harmless, but turned out to be slipperier than ice. Wolfwood had kicked a rock onto one, which slid like it was on oil, straight into a pit in the centre of the growth. Just what was in the pit, Wolfwood didn't know, but he was guessing it was something sharp, or poisonous.

And so, Wolfwood decided that the ground was far too inhospitable for him; and made for safety, in the limbs of a tree. From there, he climbed to the next tree, and the next. Finally, Wolfwood got to where he was sure Marluxia would be; the hedge maze in the centre of the garden.

Finally, Wolfwood caught a glimpse of him; or at least, someone that looked like him. The dark cloaked figure was moving through the garden below him; dashing from tree to tree, and pushing himself against them… using them as cover.

Wolfwood debated the idea of Marluxia sneaking through his own garden. It seemed unlikely – unless he had seen someone else, and was trying to get the jump on them…

Soon the figure revealed their identity; A giant fly-trap made a lunge for them. Quick as a flash, a pair of spiked disks appeared, one in each hand, and burst into flame. Leaping back, and throwing the disks at the same time, the figure smoothly dodged the carnivorous vegetable, and decapitated it simultaneously. In the process though, his hood was thrown back, revealing his face, and more prominently, his hair. It was Axel.

Wolfwood had heard very little of Axel, and had only seen him once. He knew that he was in some high position on Death By Chocolates executive panel, and that he belonged to the same organization as both Marluxia and Vexen. It seemed a little unfair, having someone on your side in the panel. But then again, judging by the way Axel was sneaking through, and killing off Marluxia's creations, perhaps all was not as it seemed. Axel looked nervously around, pulled his hood back on, and took off deeper into the garden. Wolfwood followed, running silently across the branches high above, and jumping from tree to tree.

"This will be interesting," he whispered to himself.

To Wolfwood's delight, Axel led him right to Marluxia's base of operations. Once a simple hedge maze, it had been overtaken by various deadly and dangerous favourites of Marluxias, and later converted into a more appropriate base of operations for the plant man. Wolfwood came to rest in a particularly large tree, with branches almost two metres thick that hung high over the top of the maze, mixing and intertwining with hundreds of branches from other trees around it, forming a net-like roof of living wood. He watched as Axel, still being extremely careful and sneaky, crept through the starting point of the maze. Wolfwood could see, from above, exactly where Marluxia was, and exactly what path Axel would have to take to reach him. Clearly, Axel had been through the maze before; he took every correct turn, avoided every dangerous plant, throughout the whole path.

Finally, Axel was crouched just around the corner from Marluxia, who was tending to some deadly looking flowers in pot plants.

Down on the ground, Axel breathed deeply. It all depended on surprise; Marluxia would yield quickly without time enough to counter him. He pulled back his hood, pulled out his chakram's, and charged around the corner.

Marluxia turned calmly, hearing footsteps behind him.

"Finally! I was wondering when this round would sta– AXEL!"

Axel suddenly felt a tight grip on his shoulders. His feet were suddenly being lifted in the air. He kept pumping his legs in vain anyway, even as he felt himself being lifted and bound. Realizing he had been caught in a trap, he began to flail his arms, chopping at whatever was holding him with his chakrams. It was useless.

"Wha- what is this!" Axel gasped, feeling something tightening around his torso. Marluxia crossed his arms and scowled at the red-head, held in mid-air by a series of vines that had burst out of the ground.

"This is what I intended to trap Wolfwood in, but you and your reckless stupid charge have wasted it. Why are you here during the fight anyway? What do you have to talk about that can't wait until after the round?" The pink-haired nobody walked slowly around Axel, eying his Chakrams. "Unless… you're not here to talk at all." Axel groaned. Perhaps it would have been better to wait until the end of the round. Still, it was fun contradicting everything Zexion asked. "Who sent you?" Marluxia whispered angrily into Axels left ear.

"Nobody… I-"

"BULL! You wouldn't be after me for no reason – it was one of the original six, wasn't it." Marluxia circled round behind Axel, now hissing into his right ear. Axel sighed.

"Zexion."

"Zexion? Of course, that's just like him. What has his deluded paranoia convinced him of now, eh? I'm holding information from him? Perhaps I'm a robot in disguise?" Marluxia waved his hand, and the vines tightened, pulling Axels arms and legs in opposite directions. Groaning, Axel gasped out his answer.

"He… He says you're plotting to take over the organization"

"Really? And what evidence does he have of this?" Axel chuckled.

"He doesn't need evidence. He knows you – I know you. You're terrible at keeping secrets." At this, Marluxia punched Axel hard in the stomach, but the chuckles didn't stop. "It won't work you know – you can't torture me. I haven't got a heart. No heart, no feeling. Got it memorized?"

"What did he offer you?" Marluxia demanded, ignoring Axels devious grin.

"He offered for me not to die – like you and all your accomplices."

"I see. So, in essence, he offered you nothing."

"That's a terrible way of putting in it. You're barely hiding the truth at all."

"But you see Axel, he's offered you nothing, and demanded everything. I, on the other hand, will offer you everything, and you won't have to do anything."

"So, you are plotting something?"

"That depends on your answer, are you in, or out?" Marluxia walked right up to Axel, and looked him straight in the eye. To his frustration, however, Axel's gaze was directed beyond Marluxia, towards the trees far above. "What are you look-"

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

Four consecutive shots rang through the hedge maze, and the four vines binding Axel's limbs were cut. In seconds, Axel had cut the last vine – wrapped around his body – and hit the floor, driving Marluxia back in shock.

"Enough of this – let's fight!" called Wolfwood from up in the trees. He reloaded his pistol, and readjusted his aim. It was a long way off, but as long as he had time to aim it right, cutting through vines was easy. Cutting through people was even easier. Suddenly the branches supporting Wolfwood moved. He found himself slipping – being pushed forwards. He toppled head first off the branches, down into the centre of the hedge maze.

"Nice of you to finally _drop in_!" Marluxia called, holding his arm out to manipulate the branch. Wolfwood rolled his eyes, at the same time desperately searching and grabbing for something the slow or stop his free falling.

"That must be the worst villain opening line I've ever heard." Wolfwood cried, his hands finally gripping around… a branch sticking out from the hedge. A moment later, he came to an abrupt halt, wincing as the skin was torn from his palms.

"I'm not a villain. I'm simply ambitious." Marluxia walked over, so he was almost underneath Wolfwood's dangling body. He raised his arm, over some kind of bright orange rose bush. It began growing at an accelerated rate; overflowing from its tiny pot, and enveloping the ground. Marluxia stood back, as it covered over every possible landing spot Wolfwood may have considered using. "Now, this is poisonous stuff, so just hang around up there a while, so I can sort this out." Marluxia turned back to Axel, and was immediately knocked to the ground by the side of one of his Chakrams.

"Ambitious my ass. You're completely mad."

"Hey you – Axel! I saved you once…" Wolfwood gasped at the effort to keep himself up. His hands were slowly slipping away from the rough branch, helped by the blood that was starting to flow out of them.

Axel looked up at Wolfwood, and shrugged.

"So what? I didn't ask to be saved. You should have taken out Marluxia, used my peril to your advantage."

"Well, I didn't. Aren't I a nice guy? Look, if you're trying to kill Marluxia, I can at least help you take him down."

"Axel, don't touch him, this is between you and me." Marluxia had gotten to his feet, and wandered to the hedge wall, where his scythe was hung. Axel gave it a moment's thought. Then held out his hand towards the brightly coloured bush, which immediately burst into flame.

"You know, I really don't need your help, But some people are just fun to mess with." He grinned at Marluxia, who furiously swept up his scythe in his hand, and leapt at Axel. Axel stepped back, into a black portal, which had opened up behind him. Marluxia stumbled, as Axel reappeared a metre to the left.

Wolfwood dropped to the ground. The poisoned rose bush had been reduced to cinders, and the wall had caught fire. Quickly, he rolled out of the fire zone, and dipped his bloodied hands in a watering can that sat on the half of the Marluxia's workbench that wasn't charred to the core by Axels attack. Wincing at the stinging pain, he leaned against the desk, and drew out his pistol. But before joining in, he decided to watch the two Nobody's fight.

Axel twisted and weaved, to avoid Marluxia's madly swinging scythe, eventually jumping through a portal, and reappearing behind him. But Marluxia was ready, and swung the scythe all the way around, holding it with two hands like a discus thrower. Axel, seeing the move, made a mad dive at Marluxia, slamming into him, and sending them both sprawling across the grassy ground.

The pink-haired man was the first to recover; he grabbed his scythe from next to him, raised it aloft over his head, and slammed it down where he thought Axel was. Axel flinched, but the blade came to rest sunken deep into the ground next to him. He crawled over to where his Chakrams lay, and scooped them up, one in each hand. He stood up, to find Marluxia right in front of him. Marluxia grabbed Axel around the throat, and began lifting him. Axel held out his chakrams, and closed his eyes in concentration.

Seeing what he was trying to do, Marluxia summoned a portal, dropped Axel, and stepped off to the side, just as the redhead unleashed his attack.

A huge wave of flame burst forth from Axel's hands, tearing through the plant life, and punching straight through the wall, which dissolved away into ash.

Marluxia reappeared in front of Wolfwood, although he didn't seemed to completely ignore the priest.. He walked over to his scythe, and yanked it out of the ground. Axel swung around, and brought one of his chakrams up.

They ended in a lock – Axel's chakram just touching Marluxia's throat, and Marluxia's scythe curved around the back of Axel's neck. They stood there briefly, panting.

"So… we're locked." Axel whispered.

"Come on Axel, why are we fighting. With your help, I can topple the organization within a week! You still haven't answered my question from before."

BANG!  
Wolfwood's bullet shot through Marluxia's hand, and the scythe dropped to the ground. Marluxia gulped, feeling the chakram blade, lightly touching his skin. He stepped back… only to feel Wolfwood's pistol barrel against his head.

"Game's up Marluxia, this round is mine." Said Wolfwood.

"Axel, this is your last chance. If you want to join me – get me out of this now!" Marluxia's arms were raised in the air. Wolfwood noticed the hand he thought he had shot off was now completely restored. He swallowed. As long as Axel didn't do anything stupid…

"Alright." Axel replied, pulling his chakram back.

"What!" Wolfwood cried. Suddenly, Axel hurled one of his chakrams past Marluxia. Wolfwood barely had time to bring the punisher down in defence. To his relief, he heard the whirling, bladed disk collide with his gun.

Marluxia turned around, scythe now back in his hand. He swung it at Wolfwood, who parried awkwardly with his gun. Wolfwood was knocked back by the impact, dropping the cross, while Marluuxia's weapon went flying off to the side.

"Quick, Axel, finish him!" the plant lover called. Axel just shrugged.

"Sorry buddy, I'd love to help but my work here is done."

"What!"

"I just came here to kill you. Now that I'm joining you… I guess I'll just tell them that the priest got in my way." Axel vanished through his black portal, and this time he didn't reappear.

As they were talking, Wolfwood reached into his pocket, and drew out a small black remote, with several buttons on it. He pushed the most prominent of these: one that read 'PANIC'. Marluxia picked up his scythe again, and stood over Wolfwood.

"Do you really trust him? He seems pretty unstable." The priest queried; Marluxia scoffed.

"I'd trust _him _about as far as I could throw a truck."

"Interesting choice of words." Wolfwood smiled. Just as Marluxia opened his mouth to say something, he heard it.

With a howl of fury, the Plant-Stripper 9000 tore through the only intact wall of this part of the maze, and rode on straight towards Marluxia.

The black-robed figure was struck hard by the monster truck's mighty bulbar, and tossed into the air. With a screech, the truck came to a halt, driver's side facing Wolfwood. The door burst open, and the inflatable autopilot gave a salute.

Grinning, Wolfwood recovered his cross-gun, jumped up the stepladder, and clambered onto the tray at the back. Here he had laid three tarpaulin's, two large ones, and a slightly smaller one on the far edge of the tray. Each one held important battle supplies. He checked under each tarpaulin, making sure all the cargo was intact, especially the large two, then pulled up the covering of the third pile.

"So you can regenerate a bullet-wound. I wonder how well you could handle a rail-gun." Wolfwood slung his cross around his back, and then picked up the railgun. It was twice as heavy as the cross, and nowhere near as versatile. But what it lacked in usefulness, it made up for in raw firepower. "Alright, full steam ahead!" he called back to the pilot, who pushed the pedal straight down.

In seconds, they had departed from the maze, and were gaining speed out in the open forest. Wolfwood slotted a magazine, about as big as a loaf of bread, into position on the railgun. He watched earnestly out the back, to see if Marluxia had taken the bait. To his surprise, Marluxia was already on board; he had grabbed on to the back of the truck as it took off, and was just now about to clamber onto the top. Wolfwood rushed to the edge of the speeding vehicle, and stood on one of Marluxia's hands, as he tried to hold on for dear life.

"You could surrender. That would make things a lot easier, for you." Wolfwood held the railgun to Marluxia's head, emphasizing the point. In reply, Marluxia waved his free hand, and a tree branch suddenly swooped down, and almost threw Wolfwood over the edge. Instead, he dove to the side, and Marluxia made it on to the tray. "Damn!" Wolfwood had forgotten that they were still in enemy territory. But he would soon fix that.

He brought the rail gun up, and fired. Marluxia, having had time to get his bearings, quickly sidestepped, although he felt the epic shockwave as the guns payload shot by him. Behind him, he caught a brief glance of one of his trees, almost breaking in half with the force of the bullet. This was one dangerous gun.

Wolfwood was driven back by the force of the gun. It was stronger than he had first realized. And what a sound! His ears rang, and his vision even went blurry for several seconds, from the thunderous sound of the rail gun.

"Where have you been all my life?" Wolfwood said, patting the gun gently. Suddenly, it was torn from his hands, and clattered over the edge of the speeding truck. Marluxia drew back his scythe, and prepared to strike again.

Wolfwood drew out his pistol, and let off several shots, emptying the clip. Although the pistol lacked the immense power of the rail gun, they had enough speed to hit Marluxia, several times in the chest. A black, smoky gas poured out of the wounds, which soon closed over.

"Interesting." Noted Marluxia. "I've often wondered what would happen if we got shot. Most of the time we only get hit with blades, or magic."

"What?" Wolfwood quickly reloaded, and in less than two seconds, his gun was up and firing again. This time, Marluxia made an effort to dodge. The first shot caught him by surprise, but then he darted off to the side, where a black portal had appeared. Wolfwood heard a footstep behind him, turned around, and pulled the trigger…

Click

"Oh bugger." Marluxia grabbed him by the shirt, and hurled him to the ground. Wolfwood suddenly found himself on his back, which was uncomfortably resting on the cold hard metal of his cross gun, with his head hanging over the back end of the truck, watching upside down as they sped past tree, after tree, after man-eating plant. Marluxia held his scythe up to Wolfwood's throat.

"Ah, but I can feel the energy draining from me. I understand why you use a gun to hurt people… this is as close to feeling agony as I've ever come. But what I don't understand, is why you call yourself a priest, and yet your whole life seems to be about fighting?" Wolfwood grimaced.

"The Lord works in mysterious ways."

"A-LERT! WE-ARE-COM-ING-UP-TO-OUR-DES-TIN-A-TION. HOLD-ON, AS-WE-WILL-BE-EN-COUN-TER-ING-SOME-TUR-BU-LENCE."

A computerized voice came from behind them. Marluxia turned his head, to see the inflatable auto-pilot staring back at him, through the rear windscreen, several metres away.

"Did that plastic man just talk?" Marluxia turned back, to find that Wolfwood now had a sword in his hand. With a ferocious kick, Wolfwood leapt to his feet, pushing Marluxia back.

"Alright, bring it then!" the pink haired man grinned, twirling his scythe.

Wolfwood, who had been practicing with Gilgamesh's sword, gulped. He was nowhere near ready for this. Still, in just a minute or so more…

Marluxia lunged, swinging his scythe like a maniac. Wolfwood dove out of the way, and leapt back up to his feet again… to find Marluxia was behind him. He brought his sword up, and swung at the Nobody, slicing straight through his neck and into his torso. That was surprising.

What was more surprising was when Marluxia, standing in front of Wolfwood, disappeared, and the priest heard a laugh from behind him. There was two of him now, each wielding a scythe. Wolfwood heard a swishing noise to his left, and ducked, as a third Marluxia swung at him. He brought his sword up again and charged at one of them, chopping its head off in one clean sweep. Not that it was hard; the duplicate gave him no resistance whatsoever. As the other Marluxia began to charge, Wolfwood pulled his leg, and gave it a hard standing kick – Spartan style.

This Marluxia went tumbling over as its legs got caught on the edge of the tarpaulin. As it began to fall off the side of the truck, it threw its scythe up, in a last-ditch attempt to survive. The blade tore straight through the tarp, revealing the goods underneath, as the duplicate fell to the ground.

Wolfwood turned, to see four more Marluxia's closing in around him. Wolfwood decided to give up with the sword, and unslung the Punisher from his back. The machine gun end opened up, and Wolfwood pelted the crowd of illusions with bullet after bullet, being careful not to accidentally shoot the cargo. That would be disastrous.

Wolfwood saw something move out of the corner of his eye; another copy, to close to shoot. Holding the gun with his left hand, and the sword with his right, Wolfwood stabbed it. Next, he noticed there was one in front of him, which he shot.

Through the flurry of swinging blades and blasting bullets, one Marluxia snuck around, behind the cargo. He examined the spot where one of his duplicates had torn the fabric. Hopefully he could find a weapon, like the priests rail gun like before, and use it against him…

"What the hell is this!" Marluxia exclaimed as he realized what the cargo was. Barrels of oil… lots of barrels. In a tray this size, there must be almost a hundred barrels of oil – covered by tarpaulin, and tied down with thick ropes.

Hearing the Nobody exclaim, Wolfwood leapt towards the sound, fending off the fakes as he did so. He jumped up on top of the pile of barrels, and found Marluxia crouching down under him. Without a moment's hesitation, Wolfwood leapt to the ground, and stabbed Marluxia's shoulder. With a cry of pain, all the duplications disappeared, leaving Wolfwood and Marluxia alone on the back of the monster truck.

"What are you thinking, shooting your gun at random like that? You're going to kill us both!"

"I never shoot randomly, and I don't intend on killing either of us." Wolfwood replied, glancing up, to see where the truck was. They were close. Marluxia gasped in pain.

"I don't get it, why isn't it healing?" The pink haired man tried to pull the sword out, but Wolfwood held it firmly in place.

"Go on, try and teleport out."

"Why?"

"Just do it." Marluxia held out his still good arm, but nothing happened. Wolfwood smiled. "Just as I thought. The magic in the sword is stopping you from using your powers. Handy."

"I don't need powers to beat you, priest. Do you think a single stab wound will slow me down, when I can't even feel any pain?"

"No, but it won't have to." Wolfwood grabbed Marluxia's shirt, and dragged him over to the stack of barrels. With the sword still sticking through Marluxia's shoulder, he stabbed it through the thin metal side of one of the barrels, pinning Marluxia to it.

"Like he said; hold on, you'll be experiencing some turbulence soon." With that, Wolfwood retrieved his gun, gave a salute to the driver, and jumped off the back of the truck.

"What do you mean?" Marluxia screamed, "What is the turbulence?" Finally, Marluxia turned around to see what was ahead: A solid concrete wall.

The truck, which had already been jumping and jolting the whole way along, suddenly collided with the wall; the unstoppable force meeting the immovable object with disastrous results. The bulbar crumpled, and so did the wall. The engine coughed and spluttered, died, then roared back into life, and the massive wheels lifted high into the air, spinning like… the wheels of a truck.

Marluxia was thrown against the side railing of the tray; free from the oil drum, which was now spilling everywhere, but with the sword still stuck in his shoulder. As the vehicle levelled out, and began moving normally again, Marluxia realized, from the cool, fresh breeze, and the open starry sky, that he was in the worst possible place for this tournament; out of bounds.

From a distance, Wolfwood watched the monster, with some effort, break through, and drive over the wall. Once it was out in the open air, he pulled up cross gun, for the last time that round.

Marluxia looked back, seeing Wolfwood standing in the hole in the wall he had just passed through.

"IT'S NOT OVER YET! I NEED TO TOUCH THE GROUND FIRST!"

Suddenly there was a flash, from the end of Wolfwoods gun, and Marluxia saw a blazing missile, heading straight towards the truck. Marluxia groaned.

Wolfwood pulled a cigarette from his pocket, preparing for a victory smoke.

"You can't teleport, you can't stop it… there's only one thing you can do now…"

"JUMP!" The autopilot stated; it's final instruction ever to be heard.

With the rocket just seconds away, Marluxia jumped.

The Plant-stripper 9000 went up in a blaze of fire, smoke, and raw power. Even from hundreds of metres back, Wolfwood was almost blown over by the shockwave, and the massive thunder clap that followed. A huge cloud of smoke drifted from the sky, as the fireball burnt itself out, revealing what was left of the truck; A charred out shell of the truck slammed back down onto the ground, amidst other shrapnel. An oil-drum lid rolled by, and what may have once been one of Wolfwoods pistols was now a melted puddle of scrap metal, burning into the grass outside the mall.

The autopilot, Wolfwood's good and faithful driver, had become a shrivelled, barely recognizable lump of plastic. Wolfwood resolved to give him a hero's burial later.

Marluxia, with minor burns down his face, and all over his cloak, picked himself up off the ground, and felt around for his scythe, which had miraculously survived the blast. He walked slowly back the few hundred metres to the hole in the wall, which was already being repaired by Death By Chocolate's minions.

The demon was there himself, congratulating Wolfwood on his victory, and overseeing the cleanup,

"And don't worry about all the mess outside!" He called to the imp-like repairmen "It's public property, we take no responsibility for it."

With that, Wolfwood proceeded up to the hospital. It was a place he was getting to know more and more intimately as this tournament went on.


	10. Round 5 Prelude: Blue Summer

The rain slapped against the massive window in huge globules, which then proceeded to run down the thick glass, twisting and turning to avoid other droplets with identical intent. Wolfwood half watched this phenomenon, and half gazed emptily at the dark, chaotic clouds outside, interrupted by the occasional flash of lightning.

The stakes would be higher this round, Wolfwood knew. The no killing rule had now been lifted; he was risking more than his health. Now his life would be on the line. From the outset, Wolfwood knew that he had been at a serious disadvantage from most other contestants. In fact, he had come to rely on that fact. Almost every finishing blow he laid on his opponents would have been utterly fatal to any mortal, and had they been so, he would have been disqualified in an instant.

So, really this new rule meant nothing to his overall strategy, except he now knew that he would have to be less reckless as he hit his opponent with everything he had.

Taking a cigarette from his inner jacket pocket, his thoughts turned from overall strategy to this round. The final round. He lit the tiny tube of toxins.

His opponent, Whist, was an elusive character. On the rare occasions he was seen, he walked quickly, head down, and spoke to no one but for his dog, and some girl that he had arrived with. As far as Wolfwood knew, Whist had no particularly special powers. He threw primitive-looking razor disks, with impressive strength and accuracy, and rumour had it he could teleport as well. Apart from that though, he seemed like a fairly ordinary human – just as vulnerable as Wolfwood.

Wolfwood checked his stock of ammo. He had refilled his jacket with an array of small handguns, grenades and knives. He hoped, though, that it would not come to close-quarters combat. It would be best to take him out fast, from far off.

Slung across his back, along with his trusty cross gun, was a weapon nicknamed the "_Telescope Guillotine_". It was long, shiny and bright metallic-blue in colour. The metre-long barrel ended in a hollow-tipped point, with various fine engravings around the edge. It was, perhaps, a little bit too gimmicky for Wolfwoods liking, but coming from a man with a giant cross for a gun, that wasn't much of a complaint. Besides, it was the only decent quality sniper rifle he could find.

Wolfwood pulled the Guillotine off his back, and checked the magazine. The bullets too were gimmicky. They were shaped like an actual guillotine blade – minus the rope. There were twelve shots in the clip, but it was the only clip Wolfwood had. If all went well this round, he would only need one shot.

Wolfwood looked down the sights, and groaned. Even the crosshair was the shape of a chopping block. What had he done to deserve this? He took aim, and squeezed off a shot, aiming through the glass, at a small tree-branch in the middle of the woods, far down on the ground outside. There was a huge bang, and at first Wolfwood thought it was the crash of thunder. Looking up though, he saw a barrel-sized hole punched through the glass, and a plume of smoke belching from the barrel. He had hardly felt the kick at all.

When the smoke had cleared - a process made all the speedier by the wind now howling through the hole in the window – Wolfwood looked through the sights to check his target. Down in the trees, there was a huge gap cleared in the foliage; a few centimetres above where he had been aiming.

"Quite an impact, and only a little off." At a shorter distance, he reasoned, he could trust the gun to be accurate. Still looking through the barrel, Wolfwood glimpsed something shiny; a golden sheen given off by… nothing. It was gone. The priest lowered the weapon slowly, scratching his head. In a few moments he may have looked for it again, had he not heard the soft, menacing sound of footsteps from behind him.

"Wolfwood. What a pleasant surprise to see you in this place." The slow, drawling voice came from the darkness off to Wolfwood's left. He subtly slipped his hand into his jacket, and grabbed a hold of his pistol, straining his eyes against the blackness, trying to make out the figure.

"Who are you? How do you know me?" He demanded. The voice, he was sure, was familiar, but he failed to place it in his memory. He gripped the gun all the tighter, just in case.

"You mean you don't recognize me? You should be ashamed. You shouldn't turn on an organization, only to forget all about them. That's dangerous, for them just as much as yourself."

"Le-Legato!" Finally Wolfwood remembered, and immediately raised his gun.

Legato Bluesummers stepped out into the moonlight, shining through the window. His blue hair shone all the bluer in the dark light, reflecting onto his face. His eyes shone brightly through the strands of hair, covering over half his face. He wore a long white cape, with brown trim, and a series of long spikes, protruding from his right shoulder. His other shoulder bore a skull shaped emblem over it. His black-gloved arms were raised into a sign of surrender, but Wolfwood knew better than to trust him. His brain ordered his finger to pull the trigger.

But his finger didn't respond. In fact, much as Wolfwood tried, he could no longer move any part of his body. Slowly, his resistance making very little difference, Wolfwoods arm began to bend, until the gun was pointed at his own head. Legato stood and smiled, arms dropping to his waist.

"All that firepower, and yet it only takes one little bullet." Wolfwood felt his trigger finger tightening, and he began to sweat. "Would you like to talk it over first, then we can see if you really want me dead?" With a huge burst of strength, Wolfwood pushed out against Legato's control, breaking it, and thrusting him forwards towards Legato. Wolfwood grabbed the wide-eyed Legato, and bodily flipped him over onto the ground. He quickly unslung his cross gun, and jammed the machine gun end into Legato's chest. His former master just stared, a neutral expression across his face.

"Do you think, after all that time with the Gung-Ho Guns, I wouldn't have learnt how to break through your influence?" Wolfwood muttered.

"If you find this more comfortable, than fine. I still just want to talk." Legato struggled to breath through the pressure on his chest.

"Ten seconds, spill it."

"Very well. I want to get us back home. But I can't do it without you, and nor can you do it without me."

"What do you know about this place?"

"Not much more than you, I would imagine, but while you are getting all caught up in this pathetic competition, you're missing the bigger picture."

"You've given me your big picture crap for years, and I've been happy just as long as you keep the money flowing. Now, I don't need your money anymore. When I win this tournament, I'll have as much money as I need, and the demon will grant me my wish to return home. As far as I'm concerned though, you can stay here. You can die here. Our world will only be better for it."

"Ah, but you have a problem there, don't you Wolfwood?"

"Of course I don't where would the problem be?"

"You can't win this tournament!"

"Yes I can." Wolfwood clenched his jaw. He may have accidentally pushed slightly harder on Legatos chest as well.

"You've already lost, haven't you?"

"I haven't!"

"And even if you hadn't, you know, deep down, that you couldn't take on a demon – or the forces of nature…"

"Shut up!"

"This tournament has nothing for you. You're only going to get yourself killed by staying involved."

"SHUT UP!" Wolfwood pulled the trigger, holding it down firmly, and shutting his eyes.

There was a slight click. The clip was empty. Wolfwood opened his eyes, and thought it through. Legato was right. Of course he was, Legato was always right. But sometimes it was only because he had manipulated things that way.

"I have to finish. I've come so far, it would be worthless if I didn't see it through to the end."

"You shouldn't. It's suicidal."

"You're in no position to tell me about that!"

"I will help you. This round will be over in seconds, if the two of us work together."

"No!"

"You prefer to die?"

"I prefer to win, in a fair fight."

"How do you know your opponent will be doing the same?"

"Look, if you want my help, heres the deal: You have to let me finish the final round, and you must not interfere in the final round."

"Very well, I will not interfere with you in the final round." Legato smiled. He was twisting the truth; Wolfwood could see it in his eyes.

"Or my opponent." Wolfwood ordered. Legato closed his eyes, and nodded.

"Now, would you please let me up? I need to breath, if you want us both to get out of here…" Wolfwood relinquished his grip on the gun, and Legato stood up.

"Now tell me, how did you get here anyway?"

____

Axel's feet rested comfortably on his massive wooden desk, as he pondered silently what he should do. He had managed to gain Marluxia's trust, no doubt about it. An alliance he'd had to fight for would be more solid than any cheap verbal promise, when push came to shove. At least, it would in the plant man's mind. In Axels mind, any alliance could crumble like… chocolate. Should any rebellion arise, he would be best served on neither side.

A squelch near the doorway indicated what he had been expecting sometime that afternoon; a visit from his host – Death By Chocolate. Axel had grown accustomed to Death's sneaking into rooms by squeezing himself under the doorway, and his ears had tuned in to the sound he made as he reformed himself.

"That was quite a performance back there." Axel said, just glancing up. He took another small chocolate from the now-full bowl on his desk. "I thought you weren't allowed to let him die?"

"That was then, and this is now. All the paperwork is done, and the tournament's nearly over. I just needed something to stir the crowd up a little more…"

"So you murdered your assistant on-stage?"

"Yes, precisely."

"Very spontaneous, aren't we?"

"You're one to talk." Death sat in the chair opposite Axel, kicking up his feet and leaning backwards, to mirror him. "So, what side of the rebellion are you on?" Axel looked away quickly.

"What rebellion? Who's rebelling? I don't know anything!"

""Yes you do. Zexion was here before, asking you to infiltrate a rebellious group in your organization."

"… Maybe…"

"So you attacked Marluxia, then turned on Wolfwood, and then vanished."

"Well, I might have…"

"So I just want to know what side you're really on."

"Wait a minute, how did you hear about this anyway?" Death by Chocolate threw his head back, belting out laughter from his fudge-filled throat.

"Did you think those chocolates are just there for you to eat?" he gestured at the confectionary Axel was now holding. "They are my eyes and ears. Almost everyone in the mall has eaten one now – mostly stolen from the manager's office."

"What, you mean you were spying on me through that chocolate on my desk?"

"I'm still spying on you now. The view isn't pretty, but from the inside of your stomach, that little chocolate can still hear everything you and anyone within 5 metres of you says."

"That's absurd!"

"No, it's improvisation in a tricky situation. I need a way to keep track of all my contestants and sub-ordinates; something more subtle than those primitive security cams. I don't think even Kyuubi has picked up on it yet. Although, he still hasn't eaten any. I can only hope…"

"Isn't that… illegal, or something?" The demon scoffed.

"The only one who knew – or cared – about stuff like that was the pointy haired fellow. And he's a little…"

"Right, yeah. In a sticky spot."

"Back to my original question; whose side are you on, really? I want to know." Axel ran his hand through his bright orange hair.

"Well, it's like this: I only care about me, and my crew. My crew blows right now, ever since Roxas left, so I'm down to only caring about myself. If there's an uprising in the organization, I'll keep switching sides until I know who wins."

"Spontaneous indeed."

"But, surely you don't really care about my personal battles. Why else are you here?"

"Of course I care. I need to be hiring the best help I can get. Sad though it is we've had to resort to people like you, we'll manage." A twitch of a smile crept across Death by Chocolate's face. Axel grinned broadly, despite being unsure whether he was being insulted or complimented. "But the main reason I'm here is to inform you: The Core is glitching." The Nobody raised an eyebrow.

"Glitching?"

"Yes."  
"The Core… the all-powerful piece of infallible super-natural technology that this entire operation runs on… is _glitching?_" Death shuffled uncomfortably. It took quite a lot to make a demon uncomfortable.

"Well… it's just, uh, the engineers tell me… something's wrong. I don't understand all the details, that's why I hire inferiors."

"…Who you knock off at whim, just to stir up a crowd. Perhaps you should learn something from this."

"No. Because that's a morality lesson, and I don't give a damn about morals."

"What exactly do you mean _glitching_? Does that mean anything important?"

"Important! Try _Disastrous_! The guys working on it told me that they were having power fluctuations… and something about that… and there was inconsistency in the paradoxical temporal shift… anyway, the point is that people are popping into the mall at random, from potentially any time or place. During cleanup, I encountered a gang of Vikings, and a lawyer, who were just as confused as me."

"That's ridiculous! Why the hell do we have a machine like that anyway?"

"Well, apparently we originally used it to bring all the contestants together like this. But now it's glitching, we've lost full control. Or something like that. As far as I know, there are less than 20 random's walking around our mall, with no idea how they got here. But they all seem to have some sort of connection to contestants already here."

"Well then, what are you doing about it?"

"For the duration of this tournament at least, we can't let them run rampant. I suspect that both Kirei and Gilgamesh arrive here through it – and that bloody spirit almost cost me everything in this damned tournament, and nearly got my assistant killed!"

"Which you did yourself, later." Axel helpfully pointed out. The host was not impressed.

"We don't need him any more – stop bringing it up! As I was saying, for now what I need you and Mewtwo to do is look around the mall; I'll have some others help you to locate them, but it's up to the two of you to confront them, capture them, and drag them down back into the depths of the mall, where they can be sent home. Or to hell, whichever you like – as long as they don't interfere with the final round!"

"That's it? Just clean up the mess? Ignore the heart of the problem?"

"Axel, you're not the sort of person I'd be asking about the heart of anything. I just need to delay the worst until the tournament ends, and my part is done. After that, I don't give a chocolate bunny's arse about what happens to that blasted machine, or this mall, or this city. Now, since I trust you about as much as your organization does, I've put Mewtwo in charge of you. Do whatever he says, when he says it, or else your fired." Death paused for breath. "If you'll pardon the pun."

Axel groaned, and dropped the little spy chocolate in the bowl. He got up to leave.

"Very punny." He remarked, brushing past the smirking chocolate man. Outside the office, Mewtwo was already waiting. They acknowledged each other with a slight nod.

"You didn't know about the chocolate thing?" Mewtwo queried.

"Shut up. Let's go kick some ass." Axel pulled his hood over his head, as they headed off down the hallway.

____

Kirei Kotomine sprinted through the dark nighttime lighting, along the tracks of the immense monster truck. The path carved by the Plantstripper 9000 was wide, long and winding. Apparently that stupid plastic auto-pilot hadn't been able steer the thing properly. As the priest neared the end of the trail, the fallen trees and diced-up plants littering the ground gave way to construction tools, cement bags, shattered blocks of stone, and other necessities of a reconstruction site. Here was where the truck had smashed through the wall, out into the open. Here too, to Kotomines relief, was where none of the more able-powered repairmen had gotten round to fixing. Death by Chocolate had had to set a conventional construction team to work rebuilding this wall. More time and money wasted; needless to say, the host was not happy.

Kirei, on the other hand, was thrilled to find the gaping hole still open, and the building crew gone home. It meant he would have all night to find what he was looking for, not that he even needed it. In fact, so long as no one had tampered with the crash site, it would stand out like a ping-pong ball in a vat of coke.

And so it did. Laying just a few metres away from the explosion site, the bloodstained sword was exactly where Marluxia had thrown it after his defeat. Kotomine chuckled at the thought of that stupid, idiotic Nobody, casually tossing such a valuable and powerful artefact on the ground. At the same time though, Kotomine had groaned painfully when he had first realized. Out here, out of the boundaries of the mall, the sword had been lying within easy reach of a far more threatening being. If he had gotten hold of it, Kirei's entire plan would be forfeit. In the trees, not far off, Kotomine glimpsed a golden light.

"Speak of the devil…" Gilgamesh strode proudly out from the cluster of trees. Not that Kotomine had ever seen him acting anything _but_ proud. In the time they had worked together, Kirei had come to know Gilgamesh as the most frustrating, and dangerous Servant to be Master of. Despite his immense power, Gilgamesh had a few… personality flaws, which made him both a formidable opponent, and an unstable ally.

As soon as Kotomine saw the gleaming golden figure appearing over the hill, he bolted back to the mall. Gilgamesh just stood there, making no effort to catch the wayward priest. Once he was through the hole, Kirei turned around, and looked back at the Servant.

"Remember Gilgamesh, one foot across this boundary, and Death will banish you permanently." Gilgamesh glared at him from afar.

"You have this one chance only. Give me back my sword, or soon I shall make your entire competition business suffer."

In response, Kotomine walked away, carrying the sword with him. He knew they were empty threats; Gilgamesh could do nothing, so long as Death By Chocolate was in power.


	11. Round 5: Whist

**A/N Wow, I haven't written an authors note in quite a while. I've been way to busy lately; can barely keep up with this tournament, even with all the extensions. Perhaps I'm over-doing it with the extra chapters, but I feel like I can't tell a story properly without them. Besides, I actually cut this chapter down a whole lot from what I intended it to be (it's the middle of the night!)**

**Whist was quite a hard one to write for in that I've never read Broken Sky, nor was there nearly enough info about him from the web. I recommend reading Angel Luciful's entry with him (which is excellent, btw), which gave me a pretty good idea of what I could do. If I've got the character wrong somehow, I'm sorry, but there's not much I can do about it **

**Without further ado, enjoy ******

Wolfwood crouched behind a railing, two floors above the food court. Whist was laid back in a chair, sipping on a milkshake. Next to him, a huge dog was munching on something concealed in a KFC wrapper. Both seemed completely oblivious to the rumbles and crashes echoing around the vast mall. It was the final round, and everybody was going in for a kill. Wolfwood was still trying to decide whether it would be wise to shoot to kill. The round would be over in seconds, and he would go home. But he didn't want to kill him; certainly not by surprise. Murdering an opponent was one thing, but murdering an unarmed, unprepared opponent was cold, even for Wolfwood's harsh logic. Of course, the round had started nearly an hour ago. If Whist was careless enough to sit back drinking milkshakes when he should be fighting for his life, then it wasn't Wolfwood's fault.

"Stupid kid should know better." Wolfwood muttered under his breath, zooming his riflescope right up to the duo's faces. Perhaps it was just a coincidence, but at that moment, the dog looked up; straight through the scope, into Wolfwood's eye.

In a panic, Wolfwood made his choice – and squeezed hard on the trigger. The last he saw of Whist, he was reaching for his dog's neck, and then he disappeared behind the gun smoke. There was a tremendous bang, and a plume of smoke spilled out of the end of the barrel. Once again, the _telescope guillotine _had barely the slightest hint of kick in it. In a few seconds, Wolfwood was looking through the scope again, checking on his prey.

The table was a mess; the milkshake had been dropped on it, and poured out everywhere. More to the point, the side Whist had been sitting on looked like it had been bitten by some huge creature; the back of the chair was in splinters, scattered everywhere, and the rest of the chair lay in one mangled piece, a few metres from where it had been. But there was no blood, no bodies, and besides the food, no evidence that there had even been anyone there at all. But how? Nobody could react that fast – Whist hadn't even seen him. And even if he had, when Wolfwood had lost sight of him, he couldn't possibly have moved in time.

Wolfwood groaned aloud as he realised. The dog had seen him. He remembered hearing something about Whist's unique connection with his dog – Blanky, or something. Perhaps the dog had alerted Whist to his presence. Then Whist had grabbed on to the dog, and teleported them both away. Which meant he could be anywhere now. He could even be-

"Behind you." A smug voice sounded. Wolfwood groaned all the louder as he felt the cold hard steel of a razor disk against the back of his neck. He slowly raised his arms into the air, leaving his sniper rifle half dangling over the edge of the floor under the railing. "You really should have finished us quickly, while you had the chance." Turning, Wolfwood took a chance to look at Whist properly. He was a surprisingly young fellow – approaching the end of his teens no doubt. But he looked nothing like an ordinary teenager; he had no shirt, and the whole of his chest, back and face were tattooed with strange tribal markings. His hair was brightly coloured, short, with a freshly cut kind of look. He wore a thick leather gauntlet over one hand, in which he held a razor bladed disk, pushed against Wolfwood's neck. Around his waist was a belt, which held several identical disks.

The dog sat at its master's feet, snarling at Wolfwood. He came up to around Whist's chest height. He was lean, muscular and bluey-grey in colour. Whist gave him an affectionate scratch atop the head, though never taking his cold, hard eyes off Wolfwood.

"Good boy."

"So, this is Blank?" Wolfwood asked nervously. Whist's eyes narrowed even more.

"It's _Blink_! And don't bother trying to make small talk. Do it again, and you'll be dead." Wolfwood just smiled.

"Sounds like you have a lot of anger built up deep down. Perhaps after this round you'd like to make a confession?" Whist prepared to slit Wolfwood's throat, but as he did so, Blink noticed a small movement out of the corner of his eye. Wolfwood was adjusting the position of a small pistol lying on the ground. He winked at Whist, and put his foot straight on top of it.

The gun went off, and had Whist been caught by surprise, his foot would have been blown away. As it was, he and Blink dove in opposite directions out of the way. Wolfwood kicked the gun up into the air, and grabbed it. With one hand, he let off several shots towards Whist, who now took shelter behind a washing machine in a nearby department store. With his other hand, Wolfwood dug around inside his jacket, until he found what he was looking for: grenades.

While his left hand lay down covering fire – albeit covering fire that no sane gunman would count on – Wolfwood's right hand primed, aimed and tossed the grenades. No use debating the pros and cons of killing; in the heat of the moment instinct took control.

The grenade exploded, making a smouldering crater out of Whist's hiding place. Wolfwood brought out another pistol, and began shooting up the smoking pile. Not that it was any use; either Whist would be already dead, or injured, or…

"Gone!" Wolfwood cried, frustrated. He had, again, forgotten Whists ability. He looked behind him, where he thought the dog was. The dog, too, had disappeared. "Damn them both!" Wolfwood cursed. He took a moment to drop the nearly empty pistols, and grab his Punisher from behind his back. As he unslung it, one of his suits buttons got caught on a small air vent. When he pulled on the gun, it nearly strangled him, and he spent several valuable seconds unlatching the offending fasten, venting a string of swear words the entire time.

It turned out for the better though; as he was fixing the gun, a distinct clang of metal on metal sounded from the other side, and a razor-bladed disk fell to the ground. The disk Whist had thrown had been perfectly aimed, and had Wolfwood not fumbled with the cross, he would have been decapitated.

"Thank God." Wolfwood muttered, then swung around towards the source of the flying guillotine. Several more disks came flying at him, but these ones Wolfwood dodged. He opened up the end of his gun, and blasted back at Whist. For a split-second, Wolfwood caught a glimpse of his target; Whist and the dog; but by the time he aimed, and fired, they vanished. Before Wolfwood could even react, he had riddled an empty office supplies store with bullets.

Wolfwood breathed deeply. He was stressed. That was it. All the pressure of the tournament, the life-or-death scenario, Legato, and the ultimate question: _why was he even here in the first place,_ were all weighing down on him. Frustration at his opponent was just adding to that pressure.

Whist and Blink appeared over to the left, and this time Wolfwood was ready. He levelled out his Punisher and let loose a volley of bullets, before Whist could get a single shot in. Whist vanished again, this time reappearing a floor above, standing behind a railing. Wolfwood turned his gun skywards, never letting down the barrage of fire. Now, Whist ducked behind a convenient wall. Wolfwood let up, eyeing the spot where he had gone carefully.

Now he had a dilemma. Would Whist reappear from behind that wall, or somewhere else? Perhaps he would expect Wolfwood to look elsewhere, and thus would surprise him by staying where he was. Or maybe he would expect Wolfwood to anticipate that, and move somewhere else…

And so it went on. Cautiously, Wolfwood lifted his gun into an easy carrying position, and decided to try a new tactic: He would move. He took off in the direction of the department store he had thrown a grenade at earlier. Whist was wearing him down by using distance and ambush tactics. Perhaps he would break the cycle by moving into a smaller area. Sure, Wolfwood wasn't the greatest close-quarters fighter – and he wasn't even sure if he could take Whist if it came to a fist-fight – but it was better than getting pounded by flying razors, and wasting his ammo on a ghost.

Inside though, it was anything but small. In fact, it was the largest store Wolfwood had ever seen. The roof was twice as high as a regular store, and judging by the signs directing customers around, the store covered all the way from the first to seventh floor. Wolfwood immediately ran for what seemed to be the smallest department: shoes. Far to the right, he could see a relatively small section devoted entirely to shoe displays, complete with a small, cosy-looking door nearby. That section alone was bigger than most stores in the entire shop, but it would have to do. Too late to turn back now.

Sprinting to the door, Wolfwood looked back just in time to see Whist appear at the entrance to the shop. At first, Wolfwood thought he would make it unnoticed, but once again, the dog betrayed him. Blink jumped atop a stack of washing machines, upended by the earlier explosion, and looked around the shop. He spotted Wolfwood, and barked loudly. The priest took a few pot-shots at him as he backed through the door, into a pitch-black room.

To Wolfwoods disappointment, the room was not quite as cosy as he first thought. A flick of a nearby light switch revealed, much to his horror, a MASSIVE warehouse, at least three floors high, wider and longer than was visible, and filled entirely with shelf after shelf after shelf, all stacked to the brim with _shoes._ The immense room was lit by hundreds of rows of huge halogen lights, hanging high above the top of the shelves. Wolfwood shook his head sadly. It just wasn't his day.

Whist appeared, with his dog, crouching halfway up a nearby shelf, although the ledges had enough space between them for him to stand. He smiled wickedly at Wolfwood's despair.

"Don't tell me you were trying to get away from me! I am a hunter, a hunter that never loses his prey. Had you given up at the start, I may have let you live, but now you've pissed me off!" Whist smiled "I guess that just makes it all the more fun for me." In response, Wolfwood raised his cross gun and flipped it around. With a metallic whir, the short end opened up, revealing the rocket barrel. Gritting his teeth, Wolfwood squeezed off a shot at Whist.

While the rocket was quite dramatic, and of course, the explosion was huge, it was even slower than the bullets Wolfwood had used up until now. In fact, Whist stood still, looking bored for several seconds while the projectile traversed the massive distance across the room, and up to the middle of the shelf. Then, Whist calmly put his hand on Blinks neck, and vanished again.

As the shelf went up in a blazing inferno of fire, metal debris, and shoes, Wolfwood backed up into a corner, arming his machine gun again. When the huge shelving unit fully collapsed, and the smoke cleared, Whist revealed himself to be standing in virtually the same place, on the second row of shelves. He laughed to himself, swinging off a metal support, hanging over the edge.

"It's very pretty, but haven't you got anything that can actually hit me?"

Wolfwood ground his teeth in frustration.

"If you would hold still, I could demonstrate a great many ways I could kill you!"

"Fine, lets make this more interesting." Whist vanished again, and reappeared directly in front of Wolfwood. The priest first raised his gun quickly, but hesitated as he noticed that Whist was holding his arms up. "Put your gun away, and I'll take off my belt, and send Blink away."

"What?"

"We fight with no weapons, and no powers. Mano a mano. Strongest competitor wins." Slowly Wolfwood lowered his gun. Whist lowered his hands, and reached for his belt buckle.

As they cautiously put their weapons away, Wolfwood realised something about what Whist had said. _Send Blink away_. Why would he send the dog away? Sure, it wouldn't be a fair fight with a dog on his side, but why in particular did Blink have to be sent away? Wolfwood's curiosity was answered momentarily. Whist nodded at Blink, and _the Dog_ disappeared. It suddenly hit Wolfwood that every time Whist had vanished; he had had the dog at his side. More specifically, he had grabbed a hold of the dog every time. With that in mind, Wolfwood dropped his cross gun in a corner on the ground, and faced up to Whist. Should this fistfight go awry, it would be worth knowing that the dog was a priority target.

The two combatants faced each other, bending their knees, arms wide open, each waiting for the other to move first. Neither were experts in close combat, but looking at the two, it was obvious who was in better shape. Whist scuttled back and forth like a crab, a crab that jumped excitedly from one foot to the other. Wolfwood, on the other hand, bent his knees quite awkwardly, and moved slowly, sidestepping one foot at a time. Even with his jacket though, his muscular biceps and shoulders far outshone Whist's skinny, weather beaten figure.

Whist charged first, diving at Wolfwood's legs. To his surprise, the priest reacted fast, leaping over his head, and landing in a crouch. Whist turned back and threw a punch at Wolfwood, who held up one arm to block it. In return, Wolfwood swung his leg toward Whist, which went sailing over his head as he ducked under it. Whist saw an opportunity, and charged at Wolfwood, sending him sprawling over backwards. The shirtless teen jumped on top of Wolfwood, and started pounding his face with heavy punches. Wolfwood gave a mighty grunt, as he shoved Whist off him, and rolled over, turning the tables the other way. Whist kicked out against Wolfwood's chest, using it to propel him into a backwards somersault, and then stand up. Wolfwood was knocked backward again, this time managing to land in a crouching position. Whist rushed at Wolfwood, who struck out with one hand, grabbing the boy by the throat, and hauling him up into the air as he stood up.

As Whist struggled, Wolfwood couldn't help but let a smile drift onto his face. Over in the corner, Blink whined along with his master's distress, but didn't interfere.

"Strongest competitor wins." Wolfwood repeated to a spluttering Whist. Whist coughed a bit, before returning Wolfwood's smile.

"Yes. But it's the most resourceful that survives." He rasped. Wolfwood had no idea what he meant, until the sound of a metallic click, and the feel of a cold gun barrel near his ear caught his attention. For a moment, Wolfwood went into shock, as he realised Whist was holding his own gun to his head – one that he had hidden in his jacket.

"What happened to no weapons?" He objected indignantly.

"Well, you shouldn't have brought it into the fight with you then. Why do you even fight in a jacket anyway?"

"I never take off my jacket."

"I suppose you wear sunglasses indoors as well?"

"Enough of this, no small talk!" Wolfwood gave a mighty shove with the hand supporting Whist. Taken by surprise, the gun went off to late, and Whist was thrown against the shambles of the shelf Wolfwood had already smashed.

Wolfwood turned and grabbed his Punisher from the corner, and opened up the short end. Whist took several shots, all of which missed Wolfwood completely. Whist had never used a gun before in his life. The priest fired another rocket.

Dropping the gun, Whist called to his dog. Blink responded immediately, first vanishing from the corner, and then reappearing next to his master. The two of them then disappeared together. The rocket collided with the second row of shelves, blowing the foundations away. As the weight shifted from several beams, to just a few, the thick iron girders began to bend. The second shelf slowly collapsed under its own weight. The force of the explosion had done yet more though; the shelf was collapsing backwards… towards the unit behind it. Wolfwood watched as, slowly but surely, the immense shelving units became the world's largest set of dominoes, each collapsing on the one after it, causing it to collapse…

During the spectacle, Wolfwood completely forgot about Whist. That is, until he made presence felt again.

"My, my Mr Priest. I would have thought you'd learn from past mistakes every once in a while." Whist pushed the pistol barrel against Wolfwoods head, for the second time that day. Whist ripped the Punisher from Wolfwoods hand, where it hung by his side. Wolfwood breathed deeply. There was nothing more that he could do. Under all that pressure, he had cracked. Now, he was too exhausted to stand, and dropped to his knees. Nothing could save him now. Nothing, but the mercy of a complete stranger.

There was an eerie sounding footstep in the distance. Whist looked up, along with Blink. Legato was there. He was walking along past row after row of ruined shelving, slowly and menacingly. Behind him, there was someone else.

"Wolfwood, you've disappointed me. That's all right. Life is full of disappointments, is it not?"

"Legato! Why are you here? I told you not to interfere with this round!" Wolfwood yelled. Whist still held him at gunpoint, but all his attention was directed at Legato, and the person behind him.

"No, I promised you that I wouldn't interfere with you, or your opponent. So I'm not. But it's like I was just saying; life is full of disappointments. You're opponent is about to experience that firsthand." Legato raised his hand, and gestured with two fingers. The figure behind him came forwards, and collapsed on the floor. Wolfwood felt the gun at his ear beginning to shake angrily.

"Li'ain." Whist whispered. Blink hunched his back, and growled at the stranger. Wolfwood had no idea who L'lain was, but she clearly important to both Whist and Blink. Something that was so much Legato's style to take advantage of.

"I won't interfere with your fight, but I'll just tell you…" Legato drew a gun from its holster around his waist. "If Wolfwood loses, I may just get angry. And if I get angry," He pointed the gun at the woman's head, mirroring Whist and Wolfwood's position. "It may just set this gun off, by accident." Legato chuckled. Whist's grip on the gun was virtually non-existent now.

"Why? What have I done to you?" Whist cried, clearly distressed.

"Nothing. And so long as you lose this fight, you still will have done nothing. And I will do nothing."

Wolfwood gritted his teeth. Why had he trusted Legato in the first place? The best idea would have been to shoot him on sight. Never mind that he knew how to get home, all Wolfwood cared about now was seeing both him and Whist, and this strange lady through alive. Keeping Legato alive was an option, but not a preference. In fact, Wolfwood decided, killing Legato might just be the best solution after all.

"How could I lose, I have my prize right here! All I need to do is pull the trigger and-" Whist was cut off by Legato cocking the pistol suddenly and loudly. Li'ain yelped in fear.

"I would suggest a surrender. Tell the host he was to good for you. You won't have to die that way. You and the girl can just go home and live happily together; settle down, have some kids…" Whist growled angrily at him. His growl was enhanced by Blink, growling alongside him. "If you're not going to answer, I'll make a decision for you. Surrender in the next ten seconds, or the girl dies. Ten. Nine. Eight…"

Suddenly, time seemed to slow down for Wolfwood, as several things happened all at once. Whist dropped his gun, which slid off Wolfwood's shoulder, and into his arm. Blink started sprinting at Legato, who continued counting down. As he counted, Legato raised his arm, and suddenly Blink stopped, and seemingly tripped up on his own feet. He was under Legatos control.

Wolfwood took a firm hold of the pistol Whist had dropped, and brought it up. In the few seconds of distraction be Blink, he had a chance. A chance to kill Legato. Wolfwood aimed carefully, making absolutely sure he wouldn't hit the lady. As he prepared to pull the trigger, his vision suddenly turned brown. He was staring into Whist's back. Whist, too, had rushed forward at Legato after dropping the gun on Wolfwood. As his shoulder blocked Wolfwood's vision, the priest thought of all he could do: shoot through Whist, kill Legato.

There was a loud bang, and Whist collapsed to the ground in pain. At first, Wolfwood was horrified as he thought that his bullet had stayed in Whist. But seeing a slight chip on Legato's shoulder, he realized it was far worse: He had missed. With the slightest smile tugging at his lip, Legato finished his countdown, and fired.

"NO!"

Another shot rang out, but this one seemed louder, bolder… more final. Li'ain crumpled immediately, dead. Whist let out an awful cry – like a baby without its mother, but far louder, more heart wrenching, more pure. Pure agony, hatred, anger, regret, guilt and pain went into that cry, driving Wolfwood from his knees, right down to the floor. He felt it too. He felt the pain, the regret, the guilt… and anger. He had tried all through this tournament to be like Vash. Like the stampede himself, he seemed to have been under some delusional impression that he could save everyone. Now he knew it; he couldn't save everyone, and not everyone was worth saving.

He felt someone kicking at his shoulder. He looked up to see Legato standing over him.

"It isn't finished Wolfwood." Wolfwood stood up, and looked over at his opponent. He was reduced to a silent, quivering mess, kneeling over Li'ains' lifeless body. He was bleeding badly from the shoulder, but it was clear where he really felt the pain. Wolfwood hesitantly wandered over to him, gun raised.

"I'm sorry." He said, nervously. Whist didn't respond, clearly in shock. Wolfwood opened his mouth to say something else, but was cut off.

"Don't waste your time Wolfwood. Finish the boy off, and the round will be over. Then we can go home." Legato droned. Wolfwood shook his head silently. It just wasn't right. "Come on. Just one pull of the trigger, and it's done."

"Just one pull of the trigger." Wolfwood repeated, slowly. He raised his gun. Whist didn't react.

"Go on, do it." Legato spurred him on.

"Fine." Wolfwood shut his eyes, pointed the gun at Legato, and fired.

This time, he did not miss. Legato flopped to the ground, with a slight thud, leaving Wolfwood, Blink and Whist alone in the massive room full of shoes.

Free from Legato's control, Blink walked slowly over to his master, and sat with him. Finally, Whist turned to talk to Wolfwood, red eyed and sniffily.

"You… win."

Wolfwood walked away from the boy and dog, victorious. On the inside though, he felt anything but.

**So there you have it. Hope you enjoyed it. I'm sorry if the ending seemed to brief, but I'm on a tight schedule.**

**A-L, if you have any problems with the characterization (or lack thereof), lemme know, concrit is always good.**

**Good Luck in the judging, everybody! WOOT! Final Round! Chaos will be awesome!!!**


	12. Intermission: PreChaos

**A/N This short chapter occurs parallel to the previous one (and all the other round 5 entries) – I'm basing my Chaos round off AngelLuciful's ending (Kyuubi… apocalypse… etc.) and it will involve Wolfwood, fighting Gilgamesh and others. Enjoy this quick prelude!**

**Oh, and if you haven't already, look up avatarjk137's A Winner Is Two! Forum, and sign up. The second tournament is gonna be even better!**

The mall resounded with thunder claps, as the two titans clashed. Everywhere around the entire building, people listened as the final round raged onwards. Most were in hiding in the nooks and crannies of the vast construction, and the unfortunate ones were running, in desperate fear of becoming victims of collateral damage.

Death By Chocolate and a select few of his inner circle looked in on the fight between Kyuubi and Avatar Roku through the vast sets of security cameras keeping check on the entire mall. They watched in awe as the two mighty warriors exchanged blows, almost feeling the force of it through the tiny blurry screens. Every now and then, a camera was hit, and the screen would fizzle into white noise. Then the spectators would be forced to watch from a further out angle than before. But the fight kept moving on, and the cameras would follow, all the way.

Most of the contestants were through with their fights; the survivors were scattered around several meeting places; namely the hospital and the food courts. They were weary, but victorious, slumped in their chairs enjoying their reward; the continued privilege of breathing.

All of this, Mewtwo observed as he slowly, carefully, floated his way to the roof of the building. He had tried his best to avoid being caught on tape – although he was quite sure no one would notice him. The epic battle was far more interesting. Mewtwo wasn't too concerned about the final round. No matter who won, it was he that would come out on top. So long as he timed his actions right – he would be the victor in his own epic battle.

He opened a maintenance hatch, and floated up, ignoring the ladder, landing lightly on the roof. Out in the open, under the light of the full moon, the feline creature breathed deeply, and explored the area with his mind.

Apart from the rumbles and explosions of energy from down below, he could also feel a powerful presence outside the mall... A little way off to his right.

_"Come on, show yourself. I know you're there…" _he spoke into the spirit's mind. In moments, the rooftop was suddenly drenched in a bright orange light. Mewtwo was surprised to suddenly find himself facing a tall, golden figure floating several metres up in the air, armed with a hundred lingering swords, and a twisted, arrogant smile.

"Mewtwo. Servant of Death By Chocolate, the demon who has banished me from this place. What could you possibly be seeking after me for?"

"I am not a _servant_. I was a high-level advisor, a desperately needed thinker to back up the demons outrageous ideas."

"Was?" Gilgamesh raised an eyebrow.

"Never mind that. This meeting is all about you. Tell me; how did you get here?"

"You refuse to tell me about your own treacherous habits – and yet you have the nerve to ask me, **the King**, such a question? You have no right to ask how I came here, and nor do you have the right-" Mewtwo raise an arm, and Gilgamesh was thrown backwards. The swords vanished, and the bright orange light suddenly flashed, and disappeared like an old television set, with the power suddenly cut. The golden-armoured King suddenly found himself lying face up on the ground, an invisible force pinning his neck to the ground. Mewtwo had lifted himself off the ground a little, hovering right over Gilgamesh, glaring straight at him.

"Fool! You are a naïve king to think you are in any situation to make demands. Now tell me what I want to know, and I might have a deal for you. HOW DID YOU GET HERE?"

"I… Walked?" Gilgamesh said, still in shock from the unfamiliar ordeal of being thrown to the ground. He strained against the forces binding him, but to no avail.

Mewtwo was tired of this interrogation already. It would take him all night to get anything out of this man. Judging by the noise though, the final round was drawing to a close. He decided to probe Gilgamesh's mind. Mewtwo's eyes turned a bright, glowing blue, as he stared deep into the Golden King's eyes…

Inside, Gilgamesh's emblematic bright yellows and oranges gave way to a deep, fiery red. An angry red. Mewtwo looked over Gilgamesh's thoughts – going through all the faintest inklings of ideas, plots, plans, even his few, deeply hidden emotions. Through it all, the turbulent, boiling tempest of red overpowered any other sight or sound – even the smell was _angry_ as any smell could be. But somewhere, deep in the many, many thoughts and processes of the golden king's mind, there was something more. A tiny flicker of… Dread? Mixed thoughts of auras, enemies, and two words floating across the waves. Holy Grail.

Mewtwo contemplated looking closer. It seemed that feeling of dread was the reason Gilgamesh was here in the first place. But he dispelled the idea immediately. He didn't care anymore how or why Gilgamesh was here; he only needed a motive. And motive he had aplenty, all around him in the swirling red mist.

_Lancer, Wolfwood, Kotomine, Death By Chocolate._

Mewtwo's catlike features curved into a contented smile; He had picked exactly the right person for the job. He released his grip on the Ancient King's mind.

Coming to with a splitting headache, Gilgamesh was in unfamiliar territory as he awoke. He had never been knocked out before – had barely even slept in his many years as a spirit. Pain, helplessness… They were the kind of emotions he instilled on his prey. Never to be felt by himself. Never painful, never ever helpless.

"Are you awake yet, I'm getting bored." That piercing voice went through his mind again.

"Come on demon, fight me properly this time!" Gilgamesh leapt to his feet, reached for his sword, and tilted woozily against a railing. Dizziness, too, was an unusual concept to him.

"I'm not here to fight. I'm here to offer you my help."

"Listen, fool, I don't need help from anyone! Especially-"

"EVERYBODY needs help in life, King, especially if they don't want to admit it. I need help from you, you need help from me. Hear me out; You've been banished from this mall by the demon, and now have overwhelming desire for revenge on him… I'm offering you a chance at that, on the condition that you do as I say while you're at it." Gilgamesh hesitated a moment, as if he was still willing to put up a fight. But his stubborn attitude gave in to common sense.  
"What's the condition?"

"I'll let you back into the mall, on the condition that you go and kill everyone on your little 'hitlist', and everybody else in your way, in the loudest, roughest, most… distracting way possible."

Gilgamesh smiled.

"Ah, your request is nothing! I would slaughter the puny dogs without a seconds hesitation, but the way you describe it seems much more… fun."

"Are we agreed then?"

"Agreed." The two nodded affirmingly to each other, then Mewtwo prepared to break the barrier. Concentrating his willpower, he visualized the blockade DbC had set up to keep Gilgamesh out. His eyes began to glow, and everything in his vision became clouded by bright blue. Except for a massive, invisible dome of… Bubble gum. Invisible to the naked eye, coming to an apex just above the roofline of the mall, it was every bit as eccentrically sweet as everything else Death By Chocolate had done in the tournament. Through the incandescent blue glow in his eyes, one could scarcely make out a roll of Mewtwo's pupil. Then he drew both his arms back, and formed a massive ball of energy, which he then pelted straight at the floor below him; where the roof hatch was.

A fantastic explosion, and devastating shockwave followed. Gilgamesh weathered it, intrigued by what the creature was doing. As the smoke cleared, Mewtwo was revealed, still standing over the crater, still pouring an intense beam of pure power into it. A bead of sweat ran across his brow, as he set forth a magnificent storm of energy from his hands. From Gilgamesh's perspective, he seemed to be concentrating on an empty spot in the air, but Mewtwo could clearly see the outrageously thick bubble gum starting… getting closer…

Suddenly, a loud, audible pop; and the dome was shattered. Invisible clods of bubblegum stuck themselves to walls, windows all over the mall, and ever in the hair of passers by. They wouldn't notice until they got home that night; their long shiny strands were inexplicably stuck together. One man walking past felt his shoe stick a little to the sidewalk. He checked his foot, but there was nothing there. Only that inexplicable feeling that he had picked up gum on his shoes.

Gilgamesh was surprised; as he heard the noise, he felt himself drop an inch or so onto the ground. It was only then that he realized he had been floating above the rooftop this entire time; he weight resting on the bubble gum barrier. A huge, greedy, sadistic grin washed over him, and he approached the roof hatch. He had his orders - he had his desires. He knew exactly what to do.

Mewtwo watched him go, exhausted. Now he had set a distraction in place. He had a limited amount of time now to rest up, in preparation for the final battle. Gilgamesh wouldn't make it far. He wouldn't even get through half his targets before being brought down. Mewtwo could already tell… He was going to have to face the demon alone, while everyone else was watching something else.


End file.
